Gedwey Awlei
by Fallen Dragonfly
Summary: -Protect her, Eragon. For without her, life is barely worth living.
1. Dragonmarked

Finally getting back to this... what I believe is seriously, after four years of bare consiousness. So... yes, that means this story began, and was planned from start to finish long before brisingr came out. This starts after Eldest, and always will. ...No chance to change it now.

There are many things I regret, however one of which is not having the inspiration to come back and rewrite the first few chapters to what they should be. I wrote them in days of much less experience, and in my mind, I am very unsatisfied with the first ten chapters or so. Big part to be annoyed with. Though my readers disagree... what left I have, so don't let me discourage you.

Secondly... And more importantly, I wish I hadn't stopped. I imagine a constant stream of replies would have been much more encouraging, but that is no longer possible. I've broken things in the middle, and this story may never recover. I will have to live with that.

Still... I intend to make the best of what remains.

To those left, enjoy...

-Fallen Dragonfly

How much had Eragon's life changed in the last two years?

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It all started when he found a strange blue stone in the woods. He had thought it might be worth selling. Little did he know then that it would change his life forever. A week later, the stone, the _egg, _had hatched into a dragon.

Overnight, he became a being of old stories, and legends... The dragon riders.

That was a long time ago now. Since then, he had lost two surrogate fathers, saved an elven princess, and fought as the champion in a bloody war. Eragon had become crippled, and healed. He had met his brother, and found out who his father was.

Some things are better left forgotten.

But others would not let him. Murtagh would be bound to fight him until one of the siblings died. Roran would still blame him for the loss of his bride, until Eragon helped rescue her from the jaws of monsters most poeple only see in their nightmares. And the threat of Galbatorix was ever present. Eragon often though of the fact that eventually he was going to have to fight that monster.

_Certainly not something he was looking forward to._

Provided, of course, that he could even defeat Murtagh. Though those battles would not come for a time yet. It was merely two days after the last battle, in the chaotic glory that was the burning plains.

The empire had lost, and it would take some weeks, maybe months, to rally their forces again. Neither were the Varden in any shape to take on the empire at the moment. They had one a battle, but the king still had legions of people he would conscript if need be, and they had no desire to encourage another battle soon. With a enemy bearing down on them, armies would be too easily rallied.

The pen is so often mightier than the sword. Nasuada knew that. She knew she would need to retreat temporarily, and instead seize the moment to spread propaganda. The fact that they had one a battle on a major scale would be enough to influence hundreds, perhaps thousands, to their cause. A great majority of people fight for the winning side. If that side doesn't look to be winning anymore, then defection could occur in the masses.

Well, that was what they hoped.

But not all things could, or should, be put off. For that reason, Eragon had been annoyed when his body seemed to refuse to recover quickly. There was one thing he was all too happy to put behind him, and he needed to be strong to do so.

...Mistakes are often that way, especially the big ones.

Not one to hesitate much, Eragon had barely woken when he decided he was well enough to do what he needed to do.

Still, there was no harm in getting an extra boost.

Eragon sighed in a strange semi-comfort as waves of cold fire rushed through his veins. He kind of enjoyed the sensation, and for that reason he loved the product that caused it. Faelnirv was indeed a great invention.

_Saphira?_

Her attention, which had been somewhere else, was focused on him immediately. _Yes little one?_

_Can you join me? I have a mistake to undo._

He hadn't expected her to get angry at his words. Nor growl loudly as and reply so suddenly.

_It is OUR mistake Eragon, neither realised the fault in your wording! _Her voice calmed. _Let us both correct it._

He was silent though, and entered a path that would take him to Nausada's tent. On arrival Saphira landed by his side. He touched her scaly cheek lightly, then with a deep breath, entered.

Nasuada welcomed him, but he merely raised a palm in acknowledgment. The person he sought was the mentally deceptive form of a young girl, who was tearing into a roast chicken with ravenous gusto.

"Elva..."

The girl turned slowly, her mouth still half full. As her eyes met his, a violet lance drove into his mind, and it took some control not to shrink away from the contact.

"Is it time?" She asked, speaking in her mutated tones.

"Aye."

She scrutinized him for a moment, then moved to kneel at his feet. "Please, let it be done."

Nasuada looked on, seeming to struggle with something for a moment. She got past it though, and Eragon had been in the process of accessing magic when she interrupted him.

"...I am unsure what will become of you Elva, after he does what he will do. So I tell you thus. I thank you for all that you have done, and I hope that if something about you does change, you will not forget what was. Many people owe you their lives, including me. That is a debt I can never repay."

The dark-skinned women took a breath before continuing. "Perhaps, if you wish it, I would care for you as if you were my own."

Elva's eyes widened, her carefully controlled image of cynicism slipping for a moment. "Thank you..." she whispered.

Nasuada bowed slightly, then turned her attention back to Eragon. "As you were Shadeslayer."

The rider nodded and placed his ungloved palm against Elva's forehead, silver meeting silver. To touch it felt as if his hand was freezing. Unrelenting, he again did not shrink away, and began to draw on Saphira's great pool of strength as he uttered a spell. _"Augthati du skoilr dro Saphira ae Eragon stetwar raeth'r."_

Eragon's energy slowly waxed as silvery light cascaded from his palm and into Elva's brow. The girl shivered at the feeling, but remained as still and silent as she could. For several minutes the contact continued, drawing upon more and more energy as they fought the spell they had sealed. As the last bit of magic fell away, Eragon let out a small sigh, repressing a yawn.

_Did it work? _asked Saphira.

_I am unsure. _he whispered in reply.

A tear touched his palm. Elva was crying.

Eragon his hand away, unfurling the still solid silver brow and violet eyes.

"...th-thank you."

He tried to apologise, but all she did was pull his hand till it touched her again, thanking him in the true tones of a child.

Saphira poked her head into the tent. _It is done?_

_Aye._

Eragon lingered for a moment, and began to leave when he felt a small body hug him. Turning, he saw Elva then move to Nasuada and Saphira in turn, where the dark haired girl hugged the dragon's long snout.

"So..." said Nasuada, suddenly cheerful. "...what do you want to do now? With you new life?"

Elva's tiny face concentrated for a second before screeching out, "Get something to EAT!"

It was a rare moment then, that even if they were all on the verge of war, lingering on a battlefield of a war long past, and a campaign still in progress, laughter was shared within a tent.

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-Chapter 1 -End-


	2. For my brothers' love

It was the second day after Elva had gained the ability to be an unbelievable, but still very welcome, nuisance around camp. It was a small surprise to Eragon that her abilities had not fled her, merely the pain of not following them so. But this was of small consequence to her in her new found tirade to make people happy.

Eragon woke to the sound of soft humming that was emanating from Saphira while she slept. His hand tingled when he brushed her scales, and he walked away with a peaceful feeling rooted inside.

A fair few were already awake. Eragon flinched slightly at the sight of what was roasting on the fires. Roran was sitting alone, barely concentrating on what was scorching before him.

He turned when he saw Eragon approaching. "Is it the day?"

Eragon wiped the remaining sleep from his eyes. "Better sooner than later."

"Aye."

Roran finally turned his attention to the charcoal meat. "Whoops..."

"Roran, meet me at my tent in half an hour, we will leave then. Have everything ready."

He nodded and moved off to his tent.

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Eragon went to Nasuada's tent first. To his surprise she was already awake, but suspected Elva had something to do with it. "…You're going."

"I promised Roran I would help him, after that I will need to return to the elves. My training lies incomplete."

She sighed. "I know, but I did not wish it to be so soon, I fear you will be needed in short enough time."

Eragon bowed his head. "When you call for me, I will come."

Nasuada tipped her head in reply. "Now go, you are needed elsewhere. I wish you a safe journey Shadeslayer."

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The armoury was his next stop. He needed a new blade, but he was disheartened at his knowledge that none would meet that standard of his previous weapon. As he passed over another set of weapons he considered too unbalanced for his liking, he was surprised to see an Urgal enter.

"Greetings flamesword." He said in gruff tones.

Eragon grunted in reply.

The Urgal however, revealed a broadsword and held it to Eragon." We have heard of your misfortune flamesword, so we wish to present you with this."

Eragon took the blade and swung it carefully.

"It is of Urgal make, you will find it much more sufficient than any of the weapons here." He gestured to the racks of swords, spears and the occasional axe.

Eragon swung the blade in a slow arc, the balance was excellent. The Urgal hadn't been lying when he said it was a good blade, it wasn't as well made or as magnificent as elven blades, but then again, none else bore that level of ability.

"This is the blade of our Chieftain, he wished to present it to you himself, but there is unrest among the clan. They are unused to waiting, they wish to bring the battle to the one responsible for our losses."

Eragon exposed his throat in respect. "Give your chief my gratitude for this weapon. Also tell him to inform the clan that if they are patient, they may join us in a battle like none before!"

The Urgal grinned as if pleased by this thought. "He also wishes to tell you that if you ever wish to return the blade, you will be greatly welcomed in our halls."

This time Eragon was the one to grin.

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He wandered throughout the camp, looking for a particular familiar face. Eventually he caught a sight of raven-black hair, and he followed to find Arya and Angela talking within a tent.

"Angela, Arya Svit-kona." They both turned to face him. "I came to tell you that I am leaving."

They both regarded him for a second before speaking. "As you wish, do drop again, Solembum and I always think of you as an interesting experiment."

Eragon refrained from asking exactly what she meant by that.

"Return safely Eragon."

Eragon had secretly wished a bit more from Arya, but he departed with a solemn wave.

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_Saphira... wake up Saphira._

She growled.

_We need to go soon._

_I know... I know..._

Her back arched for a second before she allowed Eragon to begin strapping the saddle onto her back.

He had only just finished when Roran approached with a forlorn but enthusiastic look on his face. "Do you think the Varden will lend us horses?"

Both Eragon and Saphira silently snickered. "We don't need horses Roran."

"What? Do you expect us to get to Helgrind on foot?"

Eragon silently snickered again. "Not by foot Roran, by air."

Roran looked to his brother as if he were mad. Then his gaze shifted to Saphira.

_Click._

"Oh no, no no no."

"For Katrina." Eragon dragged him by the arm and hauled him onto the saddle.

"Eragon... did I ever tell you about my tiny fear of heights?"

Saphira laughed out loud. _Don't worry youngling, you are not going to fall._

Eragon leapt to the saddle and Roran immediately clung to him.

"Dragon, that doesn't make me feel any-" Saphira took off.

"-Betteeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer!"

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Roran eventually became more comfortable with the idea of travelling across the land with a 500 foot view of the ground, then relapsed as soon as that fact sunk in.

Eragon however, spent his entire time conversing with Saphira, and also occasionally requesting his pack, where he would sift through his armour until he found the coal black Urgal sword. The thought of carrying one of their weapons was definitely a feeling he was unused to.

They stopped only once, to eat and rest. Roran made mention that Eragon refused meat when offered, so Eragon explained his position. Roran did not understand, nor had Eragon expected him to. But they made no more talk of it.

Before they slept that night, Eragon and Saphira transferred much of their energy into the belt of Beloth the wise, but failed to fill even a single gem to the brim.

They awoke many hours before dawn, and flew with haste till the great mountain of Helgrind rose in the dark distance, Saphira quickly found an entrance, and Eragon was surprised to find it unguarded. _They are too proud, _noted Saphira. _Too convinced that no human can harm them._

_But we are not humans, not all of us anyway. _replied Eragon._ And that will be their downfall._

The sun had still not risen when a man, a halfling and a dragon entered the hallowed halls of Helgrind.


	3. Helgrind

The great stench of the cavern meant nothing to Eragon and Saphira, but Roran was soon paralysed with unnatural fear.

_Eragon, your cousin needs your help._

He whipped around and found him shivering. He quickly realised what he had missed.

"Cendi eyreya kona!" Clear you mind! Roran shakily stood back up. "What... was that?"

"It is the breath of the Ra'zac, it disables the humans it infects."

"Then why were you not affected?"

"Should I be?" Eragon spread his arms out. "I'm not truly human anymore."

Roran could think of nothing to say to that, so he was silent. As they trudged further and further into the forbidding cave all three began to worry about the reasoning behind the absence of resistance.

When Saphira finally made mention of it, he knew she was worried.

He finally decided to reach out with his mind. So far he had previously only been open to relatively short distances, in an attempt to keep their presence unknown by any who would recognize the touch of another presence.

As Eragon opened his mind he reached slowly till he found contact...

...and a thousand minds answered his call.

His face quickly drained of blood. Every single Ra'zac was expecting him.

"It's a trap, RUN!"

Eragon grabbed Roran and jumped them both to Saphira's saddle. His armour clinked loudly, but noise didn't matter anymore.

A bone rattling screech echoed down the tunnel. The minds he was connected to entered frenzy, and all took off for his position. But amongst the chaos he sensed another mind, one which was weak with fear and sorrow.

_Katrina..._

Saphira felt his thoughts and charged forward. She smashed through stalagmites on the floor and at the same time her breath melted one of the thin walls of rock and she charged through unabated.

A buzzing filled the air, but fell silent as Eragon muttered one of the twelve words of death.

Soon after the process needed to be repeated...

**Smash!**

**Buzzzzzzzz.**

And a second of sudden silence.

**Smash!**

**Buzzzzzzzz.**

...and again... and again...

**Crack!**

**Smash!**

A cast iron door fell away to reveal a prison. Through cracks in the ceiling a single ray of moonlight illuminated a shadowed face. Her hair shone like a silver moon and a single crystal tear gleamed before sliding down her smooth face.

Eragon shivered as a memory gripped his mind. _I've... I've seen this before..._

Roran soundlessly leapt off Saphira and drew his hammer. Not so silent were the two mighty clangs formed as the hammer struck the cold steel of the chains. His feelings seemed to provide enough strength to sever each chain with a single powerful blow. Even Saphira was awed.

_His love gives him strength._

_Aye._

With Roran's final strike the last chain fell away. Katrina unconsciously collapsed into his arms. Eragon jumped off as well and helped Roran lift Katrina onto Saphira. He strapped her in place, and Roran joined her in the seat. _Let's go._ Saphira stomped out, with Eragon unsheathing his blackened blade at her side.

The Razac horde attacked once more. Eragon killed twenty each time he reached for magic, but even the simple words of death were beginning to drain on his strength. He drew energy from the belt of Beloth to rejuvenate himself. _Eragon! Let me fight, rest yourself._

_Okay. _Eragon resumed his place on her back, but was unable to sit, merely kneel between the spikes because the saddle was occupied. But he was still strangely comfortable to be so close to her instead of having a saddle between them. Even though it was the saddle that spared his skin.

He was broken from his thoughts by the smell of burning flesh. _This is almost too easy. _Thought Saphira through their link. He watched as a plume of blue flame toasted another wave of Ra'zac. Eragon was suddenly struck with an idea, why not drain their energy?

He reached for the Ra'zac's minds. There was no need to break into them, so he just transferred their energy to himself. But to his surprise, there was none to take. The waves of Ra'zac suddenly disappeared, and every mind in Helgrind vanished. Only his, Saphira's, Roran's and Katrina's remained.

_What happened!_

_I don't know..._

_If the Ra'zac just disappeared then..._

_An illusion..._

_What?_

_ERAGON! The Ra'zac were an illusion, created by magic! This is all a trap!_

_But how? There are no minds here._

_They must be hiding them! Glaedr once told me it was possible! The dragons once used it when ambushing the elves, back during the Du Fyrn Skulblaka!_

Eragon's blood ran cold. _If that is true, they could be anywhere!_

"Run faster! We have to go!" Saphira charged at full speed. It was too low to fly, and Roran struggled to hold on. Eragon sprinted with elven speed by her side.

The darkness seemed to twist around them as they charged through the passageways. Eragon caught the sight of something shifting in the shadows, but was caught off guard something tackling him to the ground.

Saphira roared and her tail whipped it off. A Ra'zac was flung into a far wall. Eragon rolled onto his back, just in time to see another pounce with its blade drawn. Eragon swung his blade and wrung it in two.

He thanked the elven strength flowing through his veins as he jumped up and beheaded another before it could stab Saphira. The dragon herself was spitting flame in every direction, leaving a sickening smell of burnt carrion.

Roran desperately held on as Saphira twisted and lunged in every direction. Katrina was tied in place and was unmoving, but Roran still swung his hammer in a horrible crunch as a Ra'zac went flying before it reached both him and his unconscious love.

Eragon reached for magic, desperate for the words to destroy their attackers. A dart flew from the moving shadows and struck him. Eragon swore and plucked it from his neck. It had not hurt him, but his mind began to cloud over and the wall between him and magic suddenly rose to an unreachable height. _Drugged..._

Saphira swore as well, surprising Eragon also.

There was a chance still, they went back through the path they originally took. Eragon thought he saw light in the distance, and even Saphira paused to make sure it was true. He ducked a high swing and drove his blade hilt deep into a Ra'zac, and wrenched it out through its side. A few more were roasted by sapphire flames. As the light drew steadily closer, a wall collapsed behind them, preventing retreat from the trap they had unwittingly but willingly walked into. A small pot of an unidentifiable substance and several lethrblaka stood between them and their escape.

The lethrblaka were huge. Small in comparison to Saphira, but still twice as tall as Eragon, and many times longer in length. Their bat wings seemed to hang of their doglike bodies. If lethrblaka could smile, these were. _Trapped!_

They seemed to enjoy the moment when they tilted the pot until Saphira could smell the contents. _Seithr oil._

Eragon stopped breathing as the thought rang through the link. Time seemed to slow as they threw the contents straight at Saphira. She tried to move, but she was too heavy to be quick enough in the confined caverns.

_Only one thing that can be done..._

_What can be... Eragon, NO!_

Eragon ignored her protesting thoughts and sprung into the path the vicious acid was making through the air. It struck his armour and parted on the metal it struck, leaving it sparkling clean. But the splash also sent large droplets flying into the spaces from which his skin visible.

Eragon was drenched, leaving Saphira untouched.

_**ERAGON!**_

Her thoughts washed past him unheard. All he knew was the agonizing pain of feeling his flesh begin to melt.


	4. Scarred

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A dragon roared, and he felt a wave of intense heat... then nothing...

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...Being held in strong talons, shaded by a beautiful creature, it flapped slowly, seeming to shine with blue...

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...Several people ran up to him, but it all seemed a blur. Even now he could see smooth faces staring at him, one in particular seemed to blur past his vision. "Waise hei..." Eragon slipped underneath his senses once more...

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..._You can't leave me like this... I love you to much for you to die... _The words slipped through from someone... somewhere... but they were still heard before they slipped away...

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...He could feel something soft beneath him, and something warm nearby. But then he felt dampness by his hand, and tasted wet saltiness on his lips, accompanied by the sound of soft mourning nearby...

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_Two dragons shot through the sky, twisting, turning, revelling in the breeze. They seemed to be shining in the sunlight, all colours mixed together in indescribable beauty. The sight of a great castle rose in the distance, but it seemed dark and foreboding. One dragon flew to a side, getting closer until a flash of sapphire scales blocked out Eragon's vision. And then it seemed to turn away. Three roars ripped the sky, blackness pervading it almost instantly. A titanic black dragon appeared and slammed into the other two, a great being on its back laughing cruelly before it drew its blade, and threw itself at the only dragon that still shone._

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Eragon stirred, his eyes slowly creaking open. Even the dusk light blinded him, stinging every fibre of his being. He clamped them shut, and slowly blinked them until he could see blurry shapes form beyond his sight. They slowly came into focus, joining to form the image of a wooden roof.

_Ugh... _He couldn't feel his head, everything seemed to swirl around inside it, and all of his limbs. Difficultly and slowly he sat up, using everything he could as leverage. Every muscle seemed to betray him, because he immediately fell back onto the mattress.

Eragon twisted his head to one side, feeling his neck crack loudly. Saphira was by his side, almost on the bed and with her head resting especially close. He could seem to see dark lines below her eyes, as though she had not slept in days. An aquamarine wing lay draped over him protectively.

He twisted to the other side, and saw the image of Arya. She sat on a chair, arms folded in sleeping silence. It was his first time catching an elf asleep. Her dark hair drooped over her face, a wisp of breath ruffling it every now and then.

He looked to the ceiling once more, and closed his eyes to join them in the land of the dreams.

_Two figures danced around him, swirling... swirling... swirling... One figure moved closer until Eragon could see himself reflected in those beautiful eyes._

Eragon blinked, his muscles feeling usable again. He rolled to one side to find Arya gone. He rolled to the other to find his sapphire dragoness sleeping. _Saphira?_

She stirred slightly. It was a few moments before she snapped into wide waking. _ERAGON! You're awake!_

Eragon smiled.

_That was an idiotic, STUPID thing to do! You could have died! You could have..._

She stopped as Eragon held out his palm and brushed her nose. _I'm glad you're okay Saphira._

Saphira was dumbstruck. Eventually she gave in and nuzzled Eragon_. I've been so worried, I..._

_I'm okay, you don't have to worry. Just be happy, because I am to get to feel your presence again. Wherever I was, it felt so lonely._

She licked him tenderly_. I am little one._

Eragon smiled. _How long has it been? I don't remember anything since Helgrind._

_You've been sleeping for two weeks._

Eragon shivered at the thought. _What happened?_

_You were hit by the seithr oil, then collapsed to the ground. The lethrblaka weren't expecting it and were surprised, so I used that time to burn some of them, grab you, and then escape._

_What about Roran and Katrina?_

_I left them nearby Dras-Leona, then flew straight to Du Weldenvarden._

_Without stopping? You could have collapsed!_

Saphira poked him with a claw. _I was more worried about you than me._

He brushed her nose again. _Thankyou._

_You should have seen the elves when I suddenly arrived here. The panic they were in when we finally managed to get your armour off..._

Eragon gingerly touched the robe he was in. _How bad is it?_

She reached for a mirror and held its end in her mouth. _Bad enough to have everyone panic._

Eragon stripped off his top and reached for the mirror. As he reached his arms were highlighted in his vision. Long strips of angry red decorated his skin. He shivered again, and turned the mirror to himself. The same weals stretched down the side of his face beginning above his brow, another line connecting it to the bridge of his nose, stretching down. He had a ring of burnt flesh around his neck, with long slivers stretching down his torso. It was the same on his back, all markings going further than his leggings. His upper arms were almost completely colored, and there were random spots everywhere that flickers of the witch oil had stung him.

Eragon trembled and dropped the mirror, where it shattered onto the floor.

_The elves healed you as best they could, but there are none among them that can remove this expanse of scarring._

He looked up at his dragoness. _Then I may have to do it, but not today..._

_Not today. But what we can do is let the elves know you are better, that you will live to continue fighting. Arya sat by your side often, she was nearly as worried as I was._

Eragon smiled at the prospect.

_It is good to have you back, little one._

_It is good to be back, Saphira._

He put his tunic back and carefully stood up, Saphira supporting him where his legs' strength still failed. He strapped on the Urgal blade, and eventually managed to climb onto her back.

Du Weldenvarden shone with life in the close and far distance. And Saphira threw herself, along with her rider, into it. As she flew low, a great cheer went up among the elves. Eragon waved slightly, before Saphira pulled up and flew over the trees. The crags of telanir rose in the distance, and eventually they stood before a hut. Oromis exited it a moment before they landed, and Glaedr quickly swooped in. "It is good to see you again masters." Saphira repeated the words.

Oromis looked weary. "I know much of what happened, you will have to tell me the rest."

"Murtagh lives, and he is a rider now. Galbatorix knows his true name, along with the name of his red dragon, Thorn. The Varden won the battle at the burning plains, but he defeated Saphira and I. Murtagh's magic is incredibly powerful." Oromis nodded, understanding.

"We were helped in our victory. Hrothgar and the dwarves showed half way through the battle. But Murtagh appeared then and smote him with magic, despite the dwarven magicians best wards, they all died trying to block the magic."

"My cousin Roran and the whole village from which I grew up showed shortly before that, and he eventually killed the twins, which were the spies working for Galbatorix in the Varden."

"After Murtagh defeated us, he let us go, telling us that Galbatorix would tighten the chains upon him, also telling us next time he would be unable to let us go. Before he left, he took Zar'roc, saying that it should have gone to Morzan's oldest son, not the youngest. I... am Morzan's child." Oromis seemed agape at this. "Who else knows?"

"Just Arya, Nasuada, Roran and now you."

"Keep it that way, we cannot allow that fact to get out. It would cause chaos, even amongst the elves."

"The Urgals fought also, seeking revenge on Galbatorix. When they heard I lost my blade, they presented me with this." He unsheathed the charcoal black sword. Oromis took it and examined it. "It is a good blade, but you will need an elven blade again." Eragon nodded and resheathed it. "I have a good idea of where I can get one, when the time comes..." Oromis seemed intrigued for a moment. But only for a moment. He quickly discounted it.

Eragon continued. "Two days after the battle, when my strength had restored. I removed the curse upon Elva. The gedway ignasia remains, along with much of the magic. But all of the bad elements are gone, except the knowledge that someone is suffering. But now she has the choice of whether to act or not. Now she can also sense how to make people happy. And has been quite taken by it."

Oromis nodded silently.

"Two days after that we travelled to Helgrind with Roran. We found it unguarded, seemingly unpopulated, but entered warily. As we travelled through Saphira and I became increasingly unnerved at the lack of resistance. So I chose to reach out with my mind to find them, because I had been keeping my range small enough that I would be able to kill any I found before they set off an alarm. It was a trap. I found a thousand of them, and they all knew we were there."

"We ran, rescuing Katrina and moving towards the exit. I killed many with the words of death, but there were so many that even those simple words began to wear upon me. So decided to try draining their energy to refuel my own. It was when I tried this they disappeared, all of them. A thousand minds vanished in an instant. We had been trapped twice. All the Ra'zac were an illusion, created by magic, which disappeared when I drained it. Leaving only us left. But then the real Ra'zac attacked."

Oromis stumbled, eventually catching himself on the door of the hut. "How?..."

Saphira spoke. _Dalik lidre. _Hidden minds.

Glaedr growled. _That is a secret kept only to the dragons, how the Ra'zac have mastered it, I do not know._

"I was struck by a tipped dart as they attacked and was drugged by it to the point where I could not use magic. But we still fought, eventually getting to the exit, where they played their final trap. Lethrblaka were there, with a large amount of Seithr oil. They threw it at Saphira, and I did the only thing I could, and leapt in the way."

He witnessed a dragon awestruck for the first time. Dragon and Rider both. "That was foolish! You could..."

"Have died? I know. But I was wearing armour, Saphira was not. There was a better chance that I would survive than her."

Oromis and Gleadr both were silent for many moments.

"The Ra'zac are not very loyal."

Oromis looked back up at Eragon. "Why is that?"

"Galbatorix wants Saphira alive. The last dragon egg is a male. Thorn is a male. Saphira... is the last female dragon in Alagaesia."

"Then be extra careful. The easiest way to get to her is to kill or capture you, Eragon. Never let your guard down. The Ra'zac realise that if Saphira dies then no more dragons can be born. No more dragons means no more riders either. They intend for dragons to become extinct."

Eragon accepted this knowledge warily. Knowing that those monsters would and could attack him and Saphira, and they would have no warning.

"Please continue."

Saphira took over. _The lethrblaka where surprised by his sacrifice, and I used that to grab Eragon where he had fallen, and burned them out of the way to escape. They followed, but quickly gave up. I was faster, and the sun burned them._

_I left Roran and Katrina near Dras-Leona, with a good amount of coin. I encouraged him to go back to the Varden. Knowing how long Eragon has been sleeping, they are probably already there. After that I flew to Du Weldenvarden with all haste._

Silence reined once more as Oromis took in every last bit of information.

"Master I... we, must know. How is it that Galbatorix is getting stronger each year? How was it that Murtagh was able to hold Saphira in place, and heal Thorn in an instant? How is it that he, who has not had much training or experience in comparison to me, was still able to best me?"

Oromis's eyes seemed hollow as he replied. "Do you remember what you were taught about the bond between the body and the soul?"

"Aye, but what does..."

"Everything. It is possible to use this bond as a source of energy. A tremendous amount of energy to be precise. But to do so is a horrible act, and attacking yourself in such a way will drive a person mad... until the bond is restored. I believe this is what happened to Galbatorix when his dragon died. If Galbatorix has taught this to Murtagh then he will always have more energy available to him than you will."

"B-but then, how will I ever defeat his magic?"

"You can't Eragon, you can't..."


	5. Waise cascr heill

Eragon lay on bed, his head gazing into the ceiling but not seeing it. His mind was elsewhere, thinking, considering. Saphira looked at him with the slightest expression of worry.

_Eragon?_

_...What's the point?_

_What do you mean?_

_What is the point of training, of even trying to fight Galbatorix, when either he or Murtagh can easily defeat us?_

_ERAGON! I don't ever want to hear you talking like that. There is hope. There will be a way. And just because we cannot defeat his magic, there are other ways. Your swordsmanship is stronger than his, when you are rested instead of not. Have faith, Eragon. Have hope. Or I will have to have enough for both of us._

Eragon looked over and smiled. _Thankyou._

She reached over and lightly licked his cheek. _You're welcome._

He looked over to his other side where an empty chair still sat. _Do you want to go see Arya?_

_She would be happy to see you._ Saphira walked over to the edge of the tree. _She was very worried._

Eragon clambered onto her saddle moments before she leapt from the tree.

They glided down, coming to the entrance of Tialdari Hall. Both dragon and rider took a deep sniff of the flowers as they passed, and Eragon revelled in the strong smells, still partially unused to his enhanced senses. Saphira seemed to notice his levity, because she smiled her toothy grin.

When they reached the doors of Arya's room Eragon knocked lightly. For a few moment no-one answered, then suddenly the door swung open.

"Eragon!"

"I thought you might enjoy seeing me awake again, and I am not disappointed."

She smiled lightly. "It is good to know. How are you?"

"As good as always." He looked at Saphira then to Arya again. "Maybe better than always... But where are my manners?" He touched his lips with his forefingers. She repeated the gesture.

"Saphira, stop smelling the flowers and come over here."

Saphira wandered over, still smiling toothily.

"It is good to see you again Saphira."

_Likewise, but I have seen quite a lot of you lately haven't I?_

"We share similar concerns."

Eragon smiled. "Well I hope to never concern either of you anytime soon, and it I doubt I will have to, unless Saphira gets caught in that position again."

Arya raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Saphira never told me how you came to be injured."

"Not as much injured as burnt, but why worry? We are still living, still healthy, still able to fight..."

"But not without scars."

"Is that ever avoidable? Those I have many of, but in time they will disappear as well."

Arya stared at him. Then Eragon realised she was looking at the twin scars running down his face. Changing the subject, Eragon asked why she was back in Ellesmera.

"I had a message to deliver to Islanzadi."

_Did you notice she did not refer to her as her mother?_

_Or anything close to it._

"The trip takes me a week, so I make it often. I arrived a week after your injury, and chose to stay until such a time as your state of health was confirmed."

"So will you be returning soon?"

"Soon... but until then I intend to enjoy myself. It is a rare occasion for me to have that chance."

Eragon nodded and smiled. He was glad she was staying, but at the same time disappointed that she was leaving so soon. He leant against the gnarled bark of a tree trunk as Arya began conversing with Saphira. His eyes slid shut and he slowly opened his mind to the minds around him. The rush of insects, the twitter of birds, his companions and even the slow rumble of the tree supporting him.

Saphira waited for his attention to slip before speaking. _I worry for him._

Arya tilted her inscrutable face slightly_. How so?_

_I worry that... ... ...do you want to know how he came to be injured? _

Arya nodded.

_He nearly died, trying to save my life. Eragon... jumped in front of me, in the way of an attack, to save me._

Arya's face dropped into silent surprise.

_What caused the burns?_

_Seithr oil._

Eragon was snapped out of his reverie by a hand brushing his face. He opened his eyes and nearly jumped. There was less than a foot between his and Arya's faces.

She was so close he could feel her soft breath. And her hand was still there.

Their eyes met for a long moment.

"Waise cascr heill." Scars be healed.

Eragon felt his skin tingle as her hand brushed over it, but he was unsure whether it was caused by the magic, or because Arya was touching him.

Let alone the fact that this moment was nearly intimate in the way she was touching him.

She brushed his face one last time, especially slowly at the once again smooth parts.

"See you soon Eragon." And she walked away.

Once she was out of sight he realised he'd been holding his breath. He exhaled and nearly collapsed onto his tree.

_What was that?_

Saphira eyed the forest. _I don't know. But if I had been in your position, I'd have been unnerved too._

---

---

Back in his own chambers Eragon stripped in front of the mirror. It was a strange sight to him. Every scar reflected its own shard of light off the evening sun, highlighting every rough angle in its own brazen glow.

_Almost... artistic._

Eragon turned to look at Saphira. _Is that so?_

She grinned. _Your skin is firm and rough, but still shiny. Much like myself._

Eragon smiled. _You know, I wouldn't mind being like you._

_Is that so? _She said, repeating his words.

_Yes it is. You, Saphira, are strong, intelligent and beautiful beyond compare. Who would not envy you?_

Saphira almost blushed. Not once had he forsaken the ancient language during his words. The fact that it had to be the truth only flattered her more.

_You know, I've never seen you naked before._

It was Eragon's turn to avoid blushing. But he found this game to his liking, so he went over to her and hugged his body up against her.

Barely avoiding another blush, she retorted with the fact that she was naked all the time, and was thus unaffected.

Eragon looked thoughtful for a moment. _You know, I never thought of it that way._

Then suddenly he reached under her leg and started tickling her belly. _Lots more places to tickle then!_

Saphira jumped backward, trying to escape his tickling fingers. But Eragon kept with her, only stopping when she hid her belly over his bed, and he laughed while she hid her face, pretending to be licking her claws, while all the time her muscles forcefully relented and her head turned a light crimson.

Eragon laughed while examining his body one last time and was struck with an idea. Deciding on it quickly, he called upon Saphira. The blush gone now, she added her strength to his, and he opened the door in his mind and let the flow of magic suffuse him.

"Waise cascr heill!"

Eragon healed using both hands. It was required for some of the harder to reach spots, such as his right arm where it was otherwise impossible to heal by himself. Eragon healed every scar on his body except for the large patch covering his left palm. Both he and Saphira could feel the effects of such extensive healing, and both were greatly drained. Eragon released the magic, puzzling Saphira, only to draw upon it again with a much lengthier incantation.

The scar began to fade like all the others had, but it quickly became apparent to the onlooking Saphira that an image was forming among the remnants. By the time Eragon released the magic once more there was an image of a swirling dragon imprinted on his palm. Before showing it to Saphira he drew on the wild flow of magic a final time and muttered words she could not hear. He ran his silver palm over her his left one, sealing the magic, and yawned into his exhaustion.

_Little one, what did you do?_

Eragon smiled wearily. He held up his palm to the sun, and Saphira looked to see a scar shaped as a dragon burned into his palm. The sunlight reflected of it, making it seem to shine of its own accord.

_Do you like it?_

She sniffed his palm, then licked it gently. _Yes I do. But what else did you do to it? It smells of magic._

He stroked her nose. _I'll tell you later... But for now it is my secret. _He pulled on his elven clothing. _Besides, I haven't finished with you yet!_

Her sapphire eyes widened, and she attempted to run as he pounced her once more.

Both of their movements were sluggish from exhaustion. As moonlight struck and they both finally relented for rest, sleep took them, and they slept with each other held close. Embraced by hand and arm and leg and wing.

---

---

---

---

---

_Two figures danced around him. Dancing in a circle. Shadows in the distance, but for a moment, he thought he could see their eyes. Dancing... again and again and again…_


	6. Kroxis

Eragon woke to the feeling of a velvety wing. He smiled, having slept very well. Unwilling to give up his position just yet, he nuzzled a little more into the crook of Saphira's neck, resting his back on her leg. His legs were a little numb from having her head rest on them all night, but he ignored it and went back to sleep.

Saphira yawned. Slowly moving away from persistent dreams. _That dream again... Why do I keep having it? _She looked to Eragon, who was fidgeting, slowly waking as well. _But is it my dream, or his?_

Eragon re-woke with a grin plastered on his face. _Good morning little one._ He reached over and momentarily stroked the wing that still covered him._ It is a good morning isn't it. _She matched his grin.

Both Eragon and Saphira stood up simultaneously, both stretching and cracking their joints. At the same time... It was a little creepy, but neither thought anything of it. Eragon walked to the edge of the treehouse, looking down the height with anticipation.

Sending a quick mental picture to her, she grinned to answer, and he leapt of the side of the platform into empty space. Saphira ran to the edge and leapt after him. As Eragon fell, his feet made contact with the base of the tree... and he began running down it, running straight toward the ground. Above him Saphira flapped her wings, propelling her faster than gravity, until she was side by side with him. Completing the last bit of his plan, he leapt off the tree and landed in her saddle, just a second before she pulled up with mere feet between her and the ground.

Eragon laughed. His exhilaration rebounded off their link, only becoming stronger when Saphira's bounced through. _WE HAVE TO DO THAT AGAIN SOMETIME! _She readily agreed.

They arrived at the training grounds so quickly he barely noticed it. Vanir stood somewhere in the middle, only showing signs of life when Eragon and Saphira landed. "Vanir!"

The elf smiled. "It is good to see you well Shadeslayer. Are you well enough to continue or practice with the blade?"

"I am."

Saphira stood back as they squared off. "Then draw your blade."

Eragon unsheathed the coal black sword, quickly muttering the words required to guard the edge. Vanir did likewise.

Eragon struck first, leaping towards him and swinging a wide arc. Vanir parried and stabbed his sword forward. Eragon dodged to the side, and swung his sword diagonally, trying to force him back. Vanir swung to block, and they both were stuck as their blades locked between them. Eragon grinned, then kicked out with his leg, and the elf leapt back ten feet to dodge it.

They squared off again, but as Eragon was looking for an opening, his eyes caught on the Urgal blade. It was battered and dented, badly. _This sword was not made for elven strength. _Saphira snorted and a small gush of flame was released from her nostrils. _You realised this NOW?_

Ignoring the last comment Eragon leapt forward. But their duel lasted much longer than normal, with them eventually coming to a draw because time ran out. Eragon had been trying not to do any more damage to the blade and had been careful with his blows. But either way it still had a collection of new scratches as well.

"You need a new blade shadeslayer."

Eragon sheathed the black sword, disappointed. "I know."

The rider and dragon departed, flying towards the crags of telanir. _Do you think it is time now?_ Saphira dipped into thought for a moment. _If you want to practice how to defend yourself instead of your sword, it is. You need those skills to live, so, I believe it is time._

_Tonight then. Oromis's lessons are just as important._

_Speaking of that, while you've been thinking you've circled his hut three times. Do you want to land now?_

She swooped down, being remarkably quiet. _Looks like I've just embarrassed a dragon._

_You have n..._

"Hehehe."

_What?_

_Can't lie can you?_

She was so quiet after that he couldn't help but keep laughing.

"Good morning Eragon." said Oromis.

"Good morning ebrithil." Saphira repeated it.

He looked to Saphira. "Glaed'r is waiting by the stone of broken eggs." She looked to Eragon, seemingly unwilling to leave him alone. She licked him on the cheek. _Be safe. _And then she flew off. But as she left, Eragon couldn't help but notice that her mental gaze never left him for a second. He felt a little unnerved by it, but he was thankful that she was so protective of him.

Oromis paused for a second while the dragons flew away.

"Before out lessons begin today I wish for you to meditate by the stream. Learn as much as you can in an hour then return."

"Yes master."

---

---

Aquatic life turned out to be an interesting experience for Eragon. Fish had simple and focused minds, and thus, were boring. But there were a few which were different. Smart and cunning, and he quickly identified these as the predators. Most interesting of all was a different creature he found, hiding in a corner. He saw it had eight boneless arms and huge dark eyes. But that was all he saw before it attacked and devoured his scaled medium. He was about to take a closer look when he realised his time was up.

Returning to Oromis, he explained all he discovered. Oromis was impressed, and even congratulated him. But soon enough Eragon found the conversation turn to a familiar subject.

"I believe I left you with quite the burden yesterday. I may be able relieve it, but unfortunately, it is not without its own bad news. But I think the former outweighs the latter."

He took a deep breath before speaking. "Have you realised Eragon, that as much as his source of energy is his strength, it is also his weakness?"

Eragon said nothing.

"Think about it Eragon. Put yourself in their place. When using this source of energy, how do you know your limits? And even more so, when the more you use it, the more you lose yourself. Your grip on reality. What happens when you use it up?"

"I would die, …never knowing what I had done wrong." stated Eragon.

"Exactly. Galbatorix and Murtagh know the risks of using this power, but as they use it more and more, nothing will save them from the inevitable mistake. Soul and body are meant to be together, untouched and connection undamaged. When they use it up, their soul will escape, and they will die. What you must do, Eragon, is last long enough for the connection to be worn thin, or overwhelm them without magic. Remember the belt of beloth. When fully charged you will be formidable in endurance, even for them."

_I told you not to give up. _Accused Saphira. Eragon bit his tongue in surprise when he remembered she was listening, with a whole lot more attentiveness than she normally paid to Oromis's lessons.

"But I promised bad news. It is this." He cleared his throat. "By knowing how to dislodge what is yours, you can also remove what is not. There is no defence against this, but herein lays the problem. It takes the same amount of energy to remove another soul as you would gain for doing so to your own. But do not despair over this Eragon. Only a rider could ever attempt the feat and hope to survive. And even then the only chance is doing it before you are weakened, because a fragment of your soul must survive, and you still need energy to live. At least a portion of both must survive."

Eragon nodded. _They would never attempt it on us, Eragon. For if they did, the one remaining would destroy them._

She was right. He sent a feeling of gratitude across their link, and returned his attention to Oromis. Still silently wishing he had realised it himself. For however swift his mind was, it was no match for Saphira.

"Trust in yourself and each other," said Oromis. Quickly catching on to Eragon's slightly blank expression. "But enough of this. Today I wish to review your knowledge of the ancient language. We will begin with..."

The rest of the day continued unabated. And Eragon felt himself begin to slip into a feeling of normallacy. Around midday Eragon decided to strengthen his observation, like Saphira had, and after that point he felt like he was in two places at once. Like he was two different people simultaneously instead of one individual.

And so, when Saphira and Glaed'r returned at the end of the day, there was no compulsion in either of them to talk, just a single minded knowledge of what to do next. So Eragon just climbed on and she soundlessly flew away.

Both dragon and rider surveyed the great tree, and were still wandering around it when the moon arrived. Elves came and went, and soon they were left alone.

_What can we do? Where do we start? We can't dig up the entire tree._

_I know. There must be some hint here._

But then, as if answering some hidden sign, A snow white raven fluttered over his head, and landed on a thick root, which was in-between a small patch of bare ground and an indented rock, which for a further unknown reason, had a tiny pool of water in it.

Blagden took a few gulps from the pool before looking in the duo's direction. "Wyrda!" Then he flew away.

Eragon smirked. _Fate indeed._

He approached the root and began scraping at the patch of dirt.

_What are you doing?_

Eragon turned to Saphira. _I'm __**trying**__ to dig. _He said half-sarcastically.

Saphira laughed. She walked to his side and, with a single sweep of her mighty paw, cleared a large mound of dirt away.

_Show-off._

She stuck her tongue out at him. Eragon was so surprised by the gesture that he burst out in laughter.

The dragoness ignored it and continued digging. Once she was a two feet in she decided to try digging underneath the massive root. On her first try she stopped as she reached something solid.

Eragon switched with her and reached into the muddy soil. And then he found what she had, and pulled.

At first glance the said object was just a pile of dirt, but upon closer inspection they spotted a sliver of white. He rubbed a bit more of the gunk off and discovered a patch of scintillating crystal.

Saphira nudged him in the side. Now that she had his attention, she brought her nose to the tip of the pool.

"Wyrda."

_You sound like Blagden._ Scoffed Saphira.

_I do not! _She only grinned all the more.

He dumped the muddy object into the pool, and then took a moment to strip his gloves.

The mud came off easily in water, but clouded the pool. Eragon felt and avoided a sharp edge, but managed to prick himself on some other foreign point, and a small swirl of blood spun around the pool. He muttered the words of healing before continuing the scrub.

Finally when he felt he had scrubbed it all off, he lifted it up in both hands.

The blade was pearly white closest to the hilt, slowly looking more metallic the further up the blade. The blade was so sharp that Eragon almost felt the air around it split in two. The hilt was leaf green, and with a moments examination, he realised it was made of curved vines. _Wood! _

_Strong wood, even from here that is obvious. _Eragon was about to test it when he was deterred by a few thorns. Each were an inch in length, and they were spread evenly along the top bladed side of the hilt. One of them was tipped with blood. _So this is where I cut myself earlier..._

The vines came from both sides of the blade, starting at either middle, and in both directions. Each pair joined as one at the side of the blade, and continued over to a curve after a distance. Three vines jutted from the others downwards from the others to form the handle, each twisting around each other and tightened till they had become smooth like they were only one.

Eragon replaced his gloves and shook off the dirt. Then he took the blade by its hilt and raised it to the sky.

The diamond on the hilt lit up in the moonlight. But what really caught both of their attention was the crystal dragon travelling up the blade. It was long on smooth, jutting twice. Once for wings and the other for horns. It was made of a thin layer of crystal, but seemed to refract more light than the diamond itself.

Eragon felt an astonishing similarity to the bow Orik had once shown him. _This sword... is a work of art. Do I dare use it?_

He ran a finger across the hilt. _What kind of wood is this?_

_I can't tell. _She replied.

Eragon paused for a second. _I wonder..._

_What?_

_I have an idea... _He reached out with his mind, and his suspicions were confirmed.

The sword was alive.

The mind of the sword was slow, deliberate, but vast. And there was something else. Something that reminded him of... Saphira?

It was undeniable. Eragon looked up at the great menoa tree, then back to the sword. _This... grew off the menoa tree. And it became something different altogether. But it is more than a plant. This place is affected by each Agaeti Blodhren. Every time… it gets a little stronger. This must be one of the effects of that change._

Saphira took a closer look at the blade, and then sniffed it. _There is great magic imbedded in this sword. _Eragon brought it to his face. She was right. If magic had a smell, this was it. He could almost feel the flow of magic emanating off it. Each close breath was like a blast of icy wind.

_Magic surprises me more each day._

_Would you prefer it otherwise?_

_...No. The strange and unusual things we keep discovering might save us in the long run._

She yawned in reply. _Well I don't know about you, but I want some sleep._

_Yeah ok. _He looked back at the sword._ I wish it had come with a sheath as well._

_Well why don't you try asking for one? _She joked.

Eragon snorted. _It does need a name though._

_Then give it a name, oh mighty rider, so we can go home._

_**Home**__ sounds weird. _He climbed onto her back. _...I think I've got one._

She flapped a few times, circling a tree. _And?_

_Kroxis._

_Leafblade? It does fit doesn't it?_

_We agree then._

She landed in the treehouse and quickly made her way to her padded _bed._

Eragon unstrapped his belt. He took the Urgal blade and sheath and put it in a corner. And then he put the belt on his bed and let his energy flow into it, with Saphira contributing also. Then he put the newly named Kroxis on his bed as well. Last of all he took off his gloves and boots and placed them beside the bed.

_Ok, move over._

Saphira raised her bony eyebrows.

_You're taking up most of that bed. I slept well last night, and I'm not giving that up._

She chuckled and raised a wing so we could hop under. Neither knew then that it would become a habit, almost a way of life for them, in days to come.

_Goodnight Saphira._

_Goodnight little one._

---

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Midnight.

---

The forest was silent.

---

Kroxis lay on the bed.

---

As silent as the forest it was born of.

---

The diamond twinkled.

And slowly, it began to shine.

---

The green hilt began to grow.

---

Lone vines extended from underneath others and slowly seeped over the blade.

---

Growing. Growing. Until the metal was completely covered in twisting vines...

---

Last of all, the vines broke off from the hilt, separating the new growth from the older part.

---

The broken vines sealed themselves, and disappeared again.

And the blade was silent once more.


	7. Flame of the dragonblade

_Twin shadows dancing, as always, in a circle. Their eyes shone with energy. The furious fire of life burning so brightly against the shadowed depths. _

_Dancing... dancing... _

_Slowly their dance drew them closer. _

"_Who are you?" _

_They stopped, halting to look. _

_One of them had fierce green eyes. They were bright and powerful. The passion of life was so evident in them. _

_The other had eyes of soft blue. Deep, deep, eyes. _

_Knowing eyes. _

_Loving eyes. _

_Soft and calm as the ocean. _

_Eyes you could get lost in. _

_Lost... _

_So... very... lost... _

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_And they danced once more. _

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Eragon woke soundlessly. _First up again. _He lifted Saphira's wing just enough to crawl under, and then rubbed his eyes to finish waking.

_That dream again. But this time it was different... _

He stretched his limbs, cracking joints.

_Green eyes, blue eyes. Such a strange dream. _

He wandered into the bathroom for a quick bath, then shaved with magic. By the time he was finished Saphira was up, and had finished her own small set of morning rituals.

_Sleep well? _

_Yes. You? _

_Very well. I had something warm to sleep on. _

She chuckled. _My flame never stops burning. But I don't think that you would enjoy it so much if I brought it out. _

_I have been burnt enough to know that I wouldn't. _

_I've only burnt you once! _

_**That **__is enough to know. Besides, I prefer my skin in lighter tones than ash. _

She snorted a jet of flame over his shoulder._ I don't know. You might look good in black. _

He shoved her nose playfully. _No thanks. _

Saphira sent another jet of flame out a window, giving him time to finish preparing.

Eragon put on his boots and gloves, taking a moment to gaze at the dragon imprinted on his palm, before covering it.

He strapped on the belt of Beloth, then reached for Kroxis and paused.

_Saphira, come look at this. _

She turned her head and looked over his shoulder. Kroxis lay silent on the bed. But now it had a sheath of creeping vines. A slight sheen of moss had grown over the sheath, giving it a coat of padding against bumps, but also enhancing the 'leafblade' appearance.

_It's almost as if it knew what I wanted, or what we were talking about last night. _

_Maybe it did. One of those is likely. This is an object born of magic. Who knows what else is can do. _

_Wyrda... In time we will know. _

**Rumble**

Saphira groaned. _I will need to hunt tonight. _

Eragon was about to reply when he heard a knock on the door side wall. He turned to see a familiar elf standing next to it.

"Arya!"

"Hello Eragon. I wished to see how your training has been progressing since your return and recovery."

He smiled. "As you wish. I am due in the training grounds soon. Shall I meet you there?"

She nodded and walked to the door.

Saphira looked at him. _You are handling this a lot better than usual. _

_I've no wish to get into another argument with her again. Besides, she seems to have relaxed. And that comforts me also. _

Saphira gave a wordless reply, and stood by the exit. _Are you going to put on the saddle? _

_No. We are flying short distances. Besides, do you enjoy wearing that thing? _

_Not as much as flying bare. _

He climbed onto her back and sat, grabbing a bony spike for balance instead of the usual leather.

_So, no problem then. _

Saphira jumped.

---

---

Even though they were early, Vanir was already there, and talking enthusiastically with Arya, When Eragon approached both silenced and turned to him.

"Good morning Vanir."

He replied politely, but paused when he saw the sheath hanging from Eragon's waist.

"Definitely a _new _blade shadeslayer."

Eragon smirked. _He's in for a surprise. _

_He's not the only one. _

Vanir drew his sword. "Ready yourself."

Eragon did. Slowly, he reached for the hilt of his sword.

Kroxis slid soundlessly from the sheath. As he gripped the hilt in both hands he felt a twinge in his consciousness, but it was gone as soon as it began.

Eragon quickly muttered the words to guard the edge.

The elves had noticed the vines that made up the hilt.

They had seen a gemstone slightly buried underneath Eragon's fingers.

They had seen a flash of white metal.

But those were all they saw before Eragon attacked, creating the image of a blurring blade.

Vanir barely raised him arm to block in time. Eragon spun, swinging Kroxis to the other side.

Blocked again, even closer to failing than last time.

Eragon was attacking too quickly. He was no stronger of faster than Vanir, but Kroxis was lighter than any sword had the right to be.

Trying to regain the initiative, Vanir thrust his sword forward. Eragon caught the blade on the hilt, partially on the thorns. He parried by spinning Kroxis in a circle then swinging it to the side. Vanir's sword had been caught during the spin, so when Eragon swung it was flung out of Vanir's hand, where it stuck a foot in the grass. Eragon quickly put Kroxis to Vanir's throat.

Both elves were speechless. Even Saphira was surprised.

Eragon quickly peeked at his sword before lowering it. There was nothing on Kroxis that gave away that Eragon had just fought with it. Even the thorns on the hilt were untouched, despite taking a direct hit.

_Eragon... that was incredible! _

_Kroxis feels like an extension of myself. Weightless even. _

"What is that sword shadeslayer?"

"I discovered it under the menoa tree." Arya's eyes widened in realization. "It is not **a** sword. It is _**my**_sword." Eragon held it out in both hands so they could examine it.

"What is its name?" enquired Arya.

"Kroxis."

"A fitting name."

Vanir looked it up and down. "Amazing." He grabbed carefully by the hilt, and cried out in pain as he quickly let go.

Thorns had sprung from its smooth handhold, impaling Vanir's palms. They gleamed innocently, covered in shining blood. And beneath all their eyes, the thorns retreated in once more.

Eragon held in a curse as he reached to heal Vanir's hand.

_It is more your sword than you know. _

He grumbled. _I wish I had known that earlier. _

Arya seemed intrigued. "I can feel the life in it. It fights with you, Eragon, unlike anyone else."

"It has much magic. I do not know all it can do yet. But what I do know is this. It responds to me." He held up its mossy coverings. "It grew this sheath last night."

Eragon held it in a way so they could look at it without touching it. Arya relished in its appearance. But Vanir was a little unwilling to approach it again.

"This is interesting." She was running a finger along the crystal dragon. Confident that no barbs would spring from the crystal or metal. She ran another finger over the mirror image on the other side.

Once she was finished Eragon lowered it again. "I still have time this morning. I would enjoy giving you a duel Arya Svit-kona."

She seemed taken aback, but smiled. "Of course."

Vanir stepped back. And Saphira turned to give her full attention.

Arya drew her curved blade and guarded its edge. Eragon lifted Kroxis into a battle stance.

She struck first. Eragon blocked and swung Kroxis over his head in reply.

Both combatants struck and parried like lightning. Each blow shot gusts of wind to each side, and each move faster than the last. Arya's hair was strewn in each direction, and Eragon's was blown back. Each blow was countered perfectly, anticipated before it had begun. Silver sparks flew as each blade met again, and again. On the ground small fires had lighten beneath the blades, and were quickly trampled by the dance of their feet.

Realizing that he needed to change tactics, he leapt over her head, spinning in mid air, to attack her from behind. She held her sword behind her back to block, then sideflipped and spun her blade, almost wrenching Eragon's from his hand.

He regained his grip and leapt after her, where their swords locked between them.

Eragon and Arya would have been in full body contact if not for the tiny space created by their swords. Their faces were just and inch from each other. And neither could move without risking themselves to the others sword.

Eragon smirked. "So, how do we get out of this?"

She smirked as well. "Like this." She leant back into a rigmar position, and then pulled her feet up to her body, and kicked out against him. Pushing of his legs, she sprung back ten feet, landing in a fighting position.

_If that's the way you want to play it. _Eragon ran forward, sliding his sword across Arya's when they connected. The sparks danced to the ground, just as Eragon dropped low and swept his leg in an arc, trying to trip her.

Arya jumped ten feet straight up, avoiding the foot, and Eragon quickly launched up as well. Their blades met again and again in mid air, and both kicked off each other moments before the ground. They both skidded to a stop on one knee each, still facing each other.

Both their brows shone with sweat. They were being pushed to their limits. But Eragon refused to lose. He had to become better. He had to become stronger. He would become stronger than any other, he would become more than himself.

Eragon raised Kroxis to his shoulder, its silver tip pointing towards Arya.

_I will win... I WILL be strong enough. I WILL NOT FAIL ANYONE AGAIN! _

Saphira reeled as his thoughts rushed in. _Who have you failed Eragon?_ She thought silently.

Eragon didn't hear anything. His whole mind was focused the battle. As he charged forward a single word was thrown into his mind.

_**Brisngr!**_

Eragon jumped and spun a split second before reaching her. In those moments before their swords met, the crystal dragon on the hilt flashed blue, and Kroxis burst into sapphire flame.

As Eragon landed he struck with such force that Arya's blade was knocked to the side.

The moment his feet touched the ground he sprung again. He spun while jumping over her. Kroxis impacted her sword with more power than she imagined possible from him, and it was pulled from her hands and spun across the training grounds where it stuck, flaming, in a tree.

Time seemed to move slowly as Eragon kicked of Arya's back. She flew forward, landing on her back roughly in the grass. Eragon flipped in the air, hitting a tree feet first. Not wasting a moment, he sprung off it and flew back, landing with his legs on each side of Arya, kneeling, and the still flaming Kroxis pointing at her throat.

All of this happened in less than three seconds.

Time resumed as Eragon stopped. Still standing over her, he tenderly put a finger to the blue flames. Taking Kroxis's blade in his hand. For some reason he smiled. The flame flickered over his palm like water. It felt like he was dipping his fingers into a pool.

Eragon sheathed the sword, and the flame extinguished. Eragon paused, realising he was pinning Arya to the ground. Blushing slightly, he got up and muttered an apology.

She didn't reply. Her eyes were wide, and Eragon quickly pulled away from her gaze. Seeking respite, he turned to Saphira. Her jaw was grazing the ground in silent astonishment.

In fact, none of the elves were speaking. Every elf on the training ground had stopped to watch the duel between the princess and the dragon rider. And all were now as agape as Saphira.

Eragon rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment, and held a hand out to Arya, which she eventually took, and he pulled her to her feet. "Umm, I win?"

_...How? _

_...I felt... a need to. An urge to, I had to win... I had to find a way. _

Arya finally broke the incessant silence. "Well fought Eragon-elda."

A cheer broke through the field, and all the elves quickly joined in. Saphira gave a complimentary roar, and licked him on the cheek.

Eragon fidgeted. Very much unused to this much attention from the elves, he started to walk from the training field, beckoning Saphira to join him. Arya joined them both a moment later. First she had to have Vanir help remove her sword from the tree. The tree split as it was removed, and fell in half on the ground. Leaves burnt to ashes in seconds, covering the grounds in thick black smoke.

"... ..."

"... ..."

_Kroxis has strange magic indeed. _

_The sword does not make the warrior Eragon. You fought that fight, and you won. Forget what I said earlier. __**That **__was incredible. _

_Mmm. It was... strange... standing over Arya like that. _

_Don't get any ideas. _

_Mmm I won't. _

Saphira shook her head disbelievingly.

Eragon looked at Arya, where she was walking in silence.

"Sorry if I hurt you earlier."

"You didn't..." She was silent for a moment, then said. "It brings back memories."

"Of what?"

"No-one has matched my swordsmanship since Faolin."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"No. It's just that..."

"You can tell me."

"Never mind."

_I get the feeling she said something that she didn't mean to. _

_So did I. _

They were silent until they reached the crags of telanir.

"I will be leaving tomorrow. If you have the time Eragon, could I see you before then?"

Eragon smiled. "Of course. Tonight then?"

"I look forward to it."

Eragon felt slightly dazed as she walked away.

_This day is getting stranger every moment. _

_Is anything ever normal? _

_Define normal. _

_Days when Arya doesn't go all out to spend time with you._


	8. Predator, prey and partner

"...I also discovered that there are many smaller organisms in the water, which some of the smaller fish and even plants feed on. In addition I noticed different things in the water during the afternoon in comparison to morning."

"That was what I hoped for. Well done. It will not be long before you will move on."

"... ..."

"Is something on your mind Eragon?"

"Yes."

"What, may I ask?"

"Fate." said Eragon gloomily.

"Ahh. Are you thinking of this because of recent events?"

"Yes."

"Do not let it worry you Eragon. You are putting too much stress on which you and everyone else thinks you should be. Be yourself Eragon. No fate is absolute, it is your own."

"... ..." Eragon fell silent once again.

"Now, about the sword you have been carrying."

"I was waiting for you to say something about that."

"I was waiting for the right time." stated Oromis.

"It responds to me. It is a living blade, given life by the Menoa tree and Aegati Blodhren."

"May I see it?" asked Oromis.

Eragon drew Kroxis from the hilt and presented it.

Oromis looked it up and down, pausing as Arya had on the crystal dragon. As he reached for the hilt, Eragon stopped him, saying, "Don't touch it. Only touch the metal, the vines react... badly... to strangers."

Oromis raised his eyebrows.

"I discovered it when Vanir did."

Are you sure it was not because you dislike him?" questioned Oromis.

"I am sure. I have taken a liking to him. Besides, I eventually realised why he was taunting me."

"And why was that?"

"He was making me go to my limits. When I was angry with him was when I fought my hardest."

"You understand even more. Have you pushed your limits?"

"Aye."

Oromis patted Eragon on the shoulder. "If this blade is destined for you, keep it with you always. But for now your lesson is over. I will see you tomorrow finariel."

"Yes ebrithil."

Eragon exited the hut and waited while two dark specks became larger in the sky. When Saphira landed she knelt down so he could get on, and he did, moments before she took off again. She was happy to be reunited, and had still been fairly unwilling to leave him for so long without her that morning.

After a minute or so Eragon spoke. _I thought you needed to hunt?_

_I will. I was going to return you first._

Eragon chuckled. _Bring me along. I haven't gotten to spend much time with you lately._

_Haven't you?_

_Not as much as I would like._

She turned on her wing and glided in the other direction. _As you wish. But we'll be back all too soon though._

_I doubt it._

_You doubt my abilities? _Said Saphira vehemently.

_No, I just suddenly have more confidence in the prey. The 'oversized mice' as you put it._

She looked at him weirdly.

---

---

Oblivious to the deer below, a dragon circled overhead, its lighter scales of its belly not betraying it against the backdrop of the sky. As it circled lower and lower it picked out a lone deer and silently swooped in.

Saphira's jaws opened, ready to snap them through the buck's soft flesh.

**Snap!**

She swooped up, barely believing what had happened. In that final second, the buck had leapt from her grasp.

She had missed.

Shaking it off, Saphira dived again at the now running meal.

_You missed._

_Oh well, I feel like having fast food anyway._

No creature on land could move as fast as something in the air. So when Saphira caught up to the deer and tried again, she had not expected it to suddenly move out of the way a second time.

She growled, but did not give up, and quickly became frustrated as her prey dodged left and right, then ducked her raking talons.

The chase ended with the buck jumping into dense underbrush where the dragon could not follow.

Saphira roared in frustration. Loudly voicing her complaints to every creature nearby.

...Then she saw Eragon laughing.

_It was you!_

"Sorry I... 'haha' ...couldn't... 'hehehe' ...help it."

With difficulty he managed to suppress the elation. Reverting back to speaking with his mind, he added, _I wanted to give you a challenge, but I thought you would catch it before it got away!_

She snorted. _I would have if you hadn't interfered!_

Eragon chuckled. _I know. _The deer trotted back into sight.

_Here, its yours._

She walked up to the unmoving animal and snapped it up, ending its life instantly.

_I put its mind to sleep the moment you targeted it. It never suffered or felt pain. It's as if it slept through the last moments of its life._

She let out a soft growl, muffled by a mouth full of deer. _A sad way to die._

_But a better way._

She was silent in thought.

_Go get another one, I promise I will stay out of it this time._

_Ok._

---

---

Eragon rested on Saphira's side while she tore into the meat with bloody gusto.

He shifted, moving his back onto her rear leg, and watched in silence as a shard of bone broke away and flew through the air, coming to rest a few feet away.

Despite the occasional crunch of bones and twitter of birds, it was silent.

Silence...

Eragon loved it.

And hated to ruin it.

_Some days I wish we didn't have to do this._

She licked her teeth before answering. _Do what?_

_Fight. Some days I wish the burden belonged to someone else._

_Is it really a burden to you?_

_Maybe not. But I wonder. What would it be like to spend every day like this? Having fun, enjoying life... Isn't that something you want too?_

_...It is._

_Saphira. For someone that I am bonded so closely to that it feels we share a soul, for someone that I love..., I never feel like I spend enough time with you. And that pains me deeply._

_One day Eragon. When this is all over._

_One day..._

Absent mindily, Eragon reached out and began stroking Saphira's scales, just below where the sapphire blue met the aquamarine of her chest.

She paused for a moment, then pushed away the second carcass to the side. She turned her head to Eragon and rested it on the ground, the tip of her muzzle on his legs.

Eragon reached out and placed a hand on her face, gently stroking down her nose, and occasionally over her cheeks.

Saphira just closed her eyes and enjoyed it. As they both relaxed, leaning into each other, she let out a soft breath and began humming.

A wisp of thought travelled between them. Best of friends, dragon and rider, between souls bonded as one. The hidden words of an ancient melody.

---

---

**Knock knock knock.**

Eragon closed his book and walked down from the study, finding Arya to be waiting at he door.

"Are you ready?"

Eragon smiled. He had dressed in semi-casual clothing, which basically meant elvish style in green, green and more green. Kroxis was strapped to his belt. She herself was wearing a dress of lighter green which fell to her ankles, and her hair fell likewise over her shoulders in smooth waves. "I'm ready."

He walked to the door, then paused and turned to Saphira. _Are you coming?_

_You aren't going far. And I thought I'd leave you two alone for once. _

_And we both know what happened last time. Remember what I said earlier, I want to spend time with you as well. Besides, I need someone to stop me from acting stupidly around her. Come on!_

She grinned. _Coming!_

---

---

There was no name for the path they walked. It was just a path, where it took them they didn't care. No-one talked, there was no need to, no desire to in any of them. Only to be there, to have the company of those few.

If the path took them over a hill, they would climb, if it took them in a circle, so be it. This path only ended when they wanted it to.

At one point they entered a glade. Familiar, for the stream running through, and the memories attached to that place. Memories that haunted him, especially now in her presence.

Arya paused as if to say something, but Eragon ignored the place and left it behind. And so she followed.

---

---

The menoa tree was where they finally stopped. Arya and Eragon lay on the thick roots, and Saphira lay on a low branch, about ten feet above. It was so wide that she could rest on it comfortably, with her tail hanging over one side, and her head over the other.

_Silence..._

Eragon wasn't sure how it happened, but Arya 's head was opposite his on the root, almost touching his. A breeze came by, and he was touched by her raven-black hair before it returned to her.

All three looked to the stars, the shiny pin-pricks of light in the heavens, and their neighbour, the moon.

It rose higher and higher in the sky. And when it finally reached the greatest point, they decided to leave. No matter how endurant an elf or how strong a dragon, they all had duties later that day, when the moon set and the sun rose again. Those duties would be performed much better when rested.

---

---

Tialdari hall welcomed them with scents, smells, and the opening of night blossoms. Arya and Saphira bid goodnight to each other, and the dragoness approached the flowerbeds while her rider did likewise.

And he was about to do so when she put a palm to his face. Stepping into his space, she was now as close as she had been before, but this time there was no blade between them. Eragon looked into her eyes, and she looked back.

Despite the blush so quickly forming on his cheeks, he could not pull away. She looked at him differently, like he was a lost memory she refused to give up.

"Goodnight Eragon."

He finally found his tongue. "Goodnight Arya."

She turned away, ever so slowly sliding her hand off his cheek, and entered her chambers.

Eragon was frozen in place, only finding his legs when Saphira strolled up to him, smelling of flowers and other soft scents.

_The day becomes stranger..._

_Would you prefer it any other way?_

_Never._

---

---

As Eragon slept that night, shaded in the warm embrace of a soft wing, a single thought became visible. That thought had words, those words a voice, that voice a memory. It flickered through his mind, connecting itself to his sleeping thoughts.

_You can't leave me. I love you..._

The words replayed themselves in his head twice more before fading away to the dream he had every night. The dream of shadows dancing in the night, and their shining eyes.


	9. Strongest of all

In absence of the recently common twists of fate, and, to a lesser extent, Arya, the days and weeks passed uninterrupted. But never could Eragon tell how long it had been, for Ellesmera was as unchanging as stone.

Oromis taught him as always, testing Eragon's limits as the intensity of his teaching was raised. But this was countered by Oromis missing lessons, leaving Glaedr to teach both him and Saphira. He had lost the irrepressible aura of energy and life, and each lesson he seemed weary. But despite this, Eragon's limits were still being pushed, such as in meditation, where he soon found himself entering the minds of creatures in the earth, water and sky at the same time.

As the weeks and months progressed Eragon began to notice things changing. Saphira slowly grew larger. These days leapt to her back instead of climbing, for the handholds he previously used were now out of reach.

He went hunting with her often now, and using a saddle became increasingly rare. When Saphira felt like a challenge she requested it of him, and even Eragon's best tactics of escape failed him as her size, speed and skill increased. But there were still days when the deer got away.

But the dragon was not the only one becoming stronger. Eragon's magic had become more powerful then ever. Even casting the strongest of spells barely affected him. And when fighting with Kroxis...

With his fated blade by his side no elf could stand before him. And when the day came that Eragon suggested he fight two at once, they happily obliged, seeking something more than the quick defeat they normally suffered.

They won the first few battles, but once those passed he was untouchable once more. Kroxis lit up in flames in a few these duels, and Eragon had long since discovered that the sapphiric inferno was not his, but created by the will of the sword itself. As the months passed, and he became stronger still, he would fight more than two…

---

---

Saphira stretched her wings, waking first for once. She looked to the sleeping rider by her side, breathing softly, and smiled. She covered him back up again, letting him sleep on.

_I wish I could understand that dream… _She thought silently. _Gold eyes, silver eyes, what does it all mean? _

"Mmmph, morning Saphira."

She turned to him, smiling again as she felt her mind light up with his consciousness. _Good morning little one. _She licked him gingerly on the cheek. He replied by gently stroked her nose.

This was not something he did in the morning, or she did in the morning. It was something _they _both did, something they did together. In the waking of dragon and rider, rejoined as one. _Their_ morning ritual.

Saphira always enjoyed the feel of his bare hands. The touch of his shining palm sent tingles over where it touched, and his dragon scarred hand left a feeling different entirely, but it was never something she could identify.

What had truly become strongest over the months was not Saphira's body, or Eragon's swordsmanship, but them. The link they shared, the indescribable experience of feeling, seeing or hearing from two bodies at once. The fact that they could share every part of themselves to the other, at any moment, just because they were so connected that they could not live separately.

Eragon finished shaving and strapped on the belt of Beloth and Kroxis. He then put on his boots and gloves, covering his marked palms. Not waiting for Saphira this time, he ran to the edge of the tree and leapt into space.

Seeing what he had done, she snorted in amusement and jumped after him.

Eragon sprinted down the side of the tree, but Saphira quickly caught up, and he leapt to her saddleless back and grabbed a bony spike for balance.

She pulled up and shot across the ground before taking to the skies.

The training grounds quickly appeared before them, and Eragon greeted the four elves he was sparring with today. Vanir was always there to challenge him, and his skill improved also, but at nowhere near the rate Eragon's did.

The remaining elves came and went as they pleased. But this was a good thing, due to the fact that Eragon had to adjust to a new style of fighting every day.

Vanir usually survived to the last, but on those days he didn't he sat back and dodged when the occasional sword went flying out of their little arena.

---

Eragon wiped of beads of sweat from his forehead. "Good match…" He panted slightly. "All of you."

"Same to you." Replied Vanir wearily as he and the others retrieved or just put away their blades.

Eragon took a deep breath, then put Kroxis into its leaf-green sheath and mounted Saphira.

_You did well today. _

_Thanks, but you saved me though. Without that image you sent me I would have never seen Celdir attack me from behind. _

She grinned at him. _No problem. _

---

---

Oromis's lessons began as normal. Though today he seemed even wearier than usual, like he was holding at a rope's end. Every movement was strained. His flesh constantly betraying his will.

Eragon had been reading a book on the Shurtugal's history, then suddenly looked up at Oromis. "Master, what was Vrael like?"

The elf seemed surprised by the question. "He was a great elf. The greatest I have ever known. The best way to explain him is to tell you how much he loved life, how much he loved making lives better. He always believed something in the world could be improved. His dragon Iormungr was much the same."

Eragon paused for a moment. "I've heard that name before…"

A wave of surprise travelled across his link with Saphira. _The same name as my father. _

He thought for a moment, trying to find the right words. "Ebrithil, how many dragons went by that name?"

Oromis cocked an eyebrow at him. "Just the one. It was a unique name. Just like the name Vrael. Maybe fate meant something of it, because they were both very unique beings."

Saphira's thoughts fell silent, and both lost concentration of their lessons. "The reason I asked, is because that was the name of Saphira's sire."

Oromis raised his eyebrows, and the tiniest hint of his long lost energy shone through. "Was it now…" Then suddenly he laughed, laughing as long as his body could handle, easing of into soft chuckles. "…Vrael and Iormungr were known as the bachelors among the riders. Despite being the oldest among them all, neither had ever chosen a partner. Not that they didn't have that chance, of course."

He took a deep breath before continuing. "Some of the others, dragons in particular, teased them about it. But they didn't care, that was the way they were." He laughed once more before continuing. "And then came the day…"

_What day? _**"What day?"** Eragon paused again. His voice had been raspy, rough. Kind of like…

But Oromis didn't notice. "The day Iormungr skipped and pranced through Doru Areaba, which is the capital of Vroengard, yelling to the entire city that he had found the most beautiful dragon in the world. Vrael nearly got trampled by him. He fell off the saddle because he couldn't stop laughing."

The words hung in the air for a moment. Then, as both the words and elation bounced through their link, Saphira and Eragon suddenly fell to the ground in violent laughter. _Every glorious image of the old riders…Destroyed in an instant. _Saphira thought the same, and agreed.

A few minutes later, when both had laughed till they were choking, they managed to stand back up.

The lesson continued, punctuated by moments of quick laughter as the thought came back to him, all too often. And when he and Saphira reunited that evening the thought returned and they fell down again and laughed until they could laugh no more.

---

_Oh daughter of Iormungr, dragon of Vrael, the oldest of the riders. How may I serve you? _

Saphira snorted into the carcass she had been eating, roasting the flesh with blue flames. _Shut up. _

Eragon chuckled. _And ruin something this much fun? _

_Yes, or I'll make you crispier than this meat. _

He laughed again. _Something weird happened earlier. _

She swallowed a mouthful of meat and turned to him. _And what was that? _

_Do you remember back in Farthen Dur when we both got drunk? _

_Yes, I have bad memories attached to the morning after. What about it? _

_Well do you remember when we were all singing, and for some reason I sung in a rasp, kind of like a dragon? _

_That was weird, but yes. _

_Well that happened earlier. When we both said the same thing at the same time. _

_Did it? Hmm. _She went silent, thinking for a moment.

_What? _

She sent a moment of thought to him.

_Do you think that will work? _Asked Eragon.

_I don't know. It might. Do you want to give it a try? _

He closed his eyes and relaxed. _Go for it. _

"**Did it work?" **Eragon watched as his mouth moved, seemingly by itself, to form words. It came out in a language he had not ever heard before, but for a reason he didn't know, he still understood it. Even if they were spoken in a rough, raspy and distinguishingly dragonish tone.

Eragon put a hand to his mouth, touching the skin that now tingled with an unusual presence. _It worked! _

"**This is strange…" **

_Strange that you're actually speaking? Or the fact that it's coming from my mouth? _

She grinned at him toothily. _Both. _

_I wonder if it'd be useful. _

"**We will see, oh great dragon rider." **

_Shut up. _

She laughed. _That reminds me. _

_Of what? _

_Getting drunk. _Saphira smiled again._ It was a lot of fun._

_Well, we could do it again sometime. _

_Actually, I have an idea. How much faelnirv do you think the elves would give us? _

Eragon smirked. _What do you mean us? They'll give you all of it and tell me there's none left. _

She snorted with amusement._ Let's find out shall we? _

Saphira swallowed the remaining meat, Eragon jumped to her back, and she flew to Ellesmera.

---

---

As it turned out, there was need. When Eragon asked if they could have some, the elf replied. "A cask is delivered to your quarters each month." Then he laughed merrily at Eragon's confused expression.

---

---

Saphira flapped into the treehouse. Eragon jumped off her back.

_Where would they put it? _

She poked her nose throughout the bedroom while Eragon looked in the study.

_Not here. _

_Not here either… _

Eragon's gaze wandered into the room with the trapdoor on the side. _Well it's not in the bathroom. _His gaze wandered a little more, stopping on the room neither of them ever used. The dining room.

Sure enough, once they explored it they found five barrels standing side by side, covered in a blanket.

_That won't go far, not for me. _Added Saphira.

_I doubt that. The elven brews are stronger than dwarven ones. And besides, once I add my own spells to them, you won't even be able to handle a single barrel. _

_Oh really. _She replied, taking it as a challenge.

Eragon smiled. _If you could please lend me your strength… _

She complied quickly, and Eragon drew on his own strength as well. He began chanting quickly, and started directing energy into a certain barrel.

The contents bubbled slightly as if heated as a small bit of magic went to excess.

He eventually released the magic, and Eragon's legs sagged as the full weight of the exertion hit him.

_Done… _

_Can I have a taste? _She asked eagerly.

_You wouldn't handle it… _he replied, knowing full well she'd take him up on the challenge.

_Yes I could! _

Eragon smirked _(you're too easy Saphira…) _and lifted the lid up. _Take a sip then, and prove me wrong. _

Taking the chance with relish, she leant down and took a mouthful from the barrel. At the back of his tongue, Eragon could suddenly taste something. Faelnirv… but sweeter.

_What are you talking about? This tastes nicer than usual, but the other effects aren't very strong at all! _

Shaking the taste from his mouth, Eragon pulled up a hand, with the fingers outstretched.

_Five…_

_Four…_ He put down a finger.

_Three… Two…_ Two more fingers.

_What are you doing? _

_One… _Only his index finger remained. He turned to her, and retracted it.

_Zero. _

Instantly she swayed slightly, like she was drunk. Like she had drunken a barrel and a half of ale, and the effects were already hitting her.

_You were saying? _Said Eragon. He was smirking, baring a full mouth of teeth.

_I'm perfectly fine… _Then suddenly she swayed, falling back on her rear.

He chuckled. _I'll tell you more tomorrow. _Eragon gently grabbed the spines on her head and levered it down to his shoulder. He gently tapped her clouded mind with his, goading her to follow him. _Come on, let's go to bed before you're tempted to drink more. _Her thoughts came in a jumbled reply.

It took some effort on his part, but he eventually managed to get her onto her dais. Eragon moved throughout the room to extinguish the lamps, strip himself of all but what he slept in, and then crawl into his traditional spot by her side.

The stars shone with an eerie brightness. The moon lit the room in soft light, making Saphira's scales glitter with beauty.

But his thoughts were not on sleeping. They kept on returning to the sweet taste at the back of his mouth, lingering still.

_I live in two minds. Feel from two bodies… _

He looked to the resting dragoness. …_We share bodies. I can even taste what she is eating. _

_None of this is a complaint, I enjoy every single moment in her presence… _

A breath slipped from his lips. _But what does that make __**me? **__Beneath the flesh? _

_You are the one I love. _Saphira's tired mind broke through his thoughts, piercing his worries, his doubts... Her words soothing his troubled mind._You are who I chose from thousands. For whom I happily went through a century of wait. The only thing this world can offer that I would give my life for, because… I can not live without you. I love you, Eragon, never forget that. _

Eragon smiled as his head cleared, leaving an overwhelming sense of peace in its wake. And there was something else, something he could not identify. The same thing that had been held at the edge of his connection with Saphira these past few months.

Saphira nuzzled him softly. To him she had spoken exactly the right words. The words to calm him. To clear his head. To love her all the more.

Maybe that was why he did what he did. The thing he did back then, what seemed so long ago. And maybe it was the same reason he did what he did now. Maybe he was tired. Maybe it was because he could feel the faelnirv, creeping silently through a link so strong. Or maybe it was a desire rooted in them both. Neither knew. Because, for at that moment, Eragon leaned forward and pressed his lips to the smooth, cool scales of Saphira's cheek.

Neither thought of it. Not then. Even if it might hang from them so strongly in days to come, they let themselves slip into the tranquil bliss they secretly desired, and then, fall into their minds, into each other, to sleep.

That night, they dreamt as one.


	10. Black poison

That night, four shadows stalked their dreams.

Saphira woke smiling. She yawned, showing off her sharp teeth. Beside her, Eragon woke also, a strange grin plastered on his face.

_Good morning little one._

_Good morning Saphira._

_How did you sleep? _Asked Eragon.

_Very well. But my dreams were-_

_-Weird._ Whispered Eragon.

She laughed. _I can finish my own sentences._

Eragon smirked. _It's just that... my dreams were weird too._

_How so?_

_I've been having the same dream for months. But... last night... it was different._

_Oh?_ She replied, suddenly interested. _Tell me about it._

_Ok then. At the start of it all, I'm in complete darkness, and I'm alone. Then... _Eragon caught a ray of sunlight out of the corner of his eye.

Instantly his head spun to the alarm... which he had forgotten to turn last night.

_We're LATE!_

Saphira jumped as she realised what time it was.

Eragon ran about the room, hurriedly getting dressed. He strapped on the choice few of his possessions then sprinted out a door and quickly returned, but with much less energy than he had moments before. Saphira also felt the drain of her strength, but neither said anything just yet, and he jumped onto her bare back as she launched into the sky.

Saphira landed in the training grounds a few minutes later. To his surprise none of his sparring partners were annoyed that he was late. In fact they had requested he have an additional opponent today. Or, in Vanir's words, find out how many it took to bring him down.

And, to their dismay, it took ten minutes to prove that five just wasn't enough.

---

---

_If they intend to keep this up every day I'm really going to need your help._

Saphira laughed. _You already do._

_Only a little._ Mumbled Eragon.

Saphira turned and licked his cheek. _I'm happy to help, however I can. _

_Eragon brushed the side of her face with his fingers, then she turned back and concentrated on flying._

They arrived at the crags to find both Oromis and Glaedr awaiting them.

Saphira got ready to take off again when Oromis shook his head. "We will be training together today."

Glaedr's golden eyes were fixed on his rider as he spoke, never wavering.

_It's more than that though, isn't it? He needs Glaedr's strength. _

_I noticed that too. _

"Do you wish to know why we are training together? This is a subject for both of you." He walked to the spot in-between Saphira and Eragon. "Now, what is the best way to attack an opponent?"

Eragon thought for a moment. "To attack what your opponent has left unguarded."

Oromis smiled slightly. "Essentially, yes. But what about points that, if attacked, cause more damage than others? He paused, waiting to have their full attention again. "For example..." Then suddenly he spun, and, with the edge of his palm, rapped the joint on Saphira's right foreleg.

The effect was instantaneous. Both of her front legs collapsed forward, and she hit the ground with a thump.

"That… was one such weakness. A nerve that if triggered, will cause the muscles to relax."

As he walked past Eragon he spun again, and Eragon hit the ground with an undignified thump.

"This one such reaction is the same for elf, dwarf, human or dragon. Indeed, many creatures." He continued walking while Glaedr looked on in amusement.

"There are some points which have a greater effect than others, resulting in pain, unconsciousness or even death. Many reside in the neck or head, which, yet again, is a weak spot for almost any creature. But those are not the only ones…"

Yet again, he spun and struck out, this time with his leg.

Eragon didn't block fast enough.

Saphira was struck also, by the top of Glaedr's tail, in the shoulder.

Connected as they were, they felt each-others pain like it was their own.

But one pain… completely drowned the other.

Eragon clutched his crotch and fell down in utter agony. Beside him, Saphira's legs collapsed and she lay, twitching, by his side.

"Oooooooooooooooooh." Eragon curled into a fetal position, waiting for the pain to pass. Saphira whined, and chewed on a tree to ease the pain.

"Ooooooooo-ooooooooh."

Oromis cleared his throat, waiting for his students to get back up.

-Several minutes later-

Eragon torturously got back to his feet, finally aware of a throbbing pain in his shoulder.

"You both must learn to protect your vital points." Stated Oromis. But they were barely listening.

Saphira slowly got to her feet. Very slowly. Her left foreleg was hanging limp.

_Eragon! _Called Saphira desperately. Eragon moved to help her, but Oromis put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. "You must learn how to recognize these things, and how to relieve them.

He took Eragon to Saphira, leaving him feeling guilty that he couldn't fix the problem right away.

"Energy would be wasted trying to heal this problem." He motioned, running a finger above the motionless leg. "This is caused by manipulating a certain nerve. Trying to heal it is fighting the body itself for power." He motioned to her shoulder muscle. "By merely applying pressure in the right place, the body will restore itself, and movement will be restored." He pushed down on the side of the muscle, digging underneath the bone.

Immediately Eragon felt cold rush down his side, and Saphira's leg snapped into motion.

She placed it back down, finally resting comfortably again.

Oromis walked into his hut, and emerged carrying an armful of scrolls. "You are to discover as much as possible, both of you. Glaedr and I will be back in three hours. We will test you both then.

Eragon suddenly felt a twinge in his consciousness, so he relaxed and let Saphira take over.

"**As you wish masters." **

Both of them then looked down at the scrolls and began reading, ignoring the surprised looks they were getting from their teachers.

Eventually they gave up and left. Eragon had waited before he spoke.

_How are we to read all of these so quickly? It is impossible. _

_Shhh. Don't worry. He doesn't expect us to read them all. What we have to do is scan over them, and reading anything important. Kind of like your meditation, we have to collect vital information, as fast as possible. _

So they did. Every ten minutes they would find something, then spend the next few minutes reading it thoroughly, and then practice it. Though, they avoided actually touching the nerves.

After two hours of reading scrolls on humanoid creatures, such as elves, humans, Urgals and even Ra'zac, they moved on the parts about dragons.

The texts, which dated back to the days of the dragon war, contained details of every possible way to slay them. Those, for better or worse, were still few though. Among them, there was one particularly thick scroll, which went over every detail of the dragon anatomy. From nerves to weak points, strong points, muscle and bone structure and even, to Saphira's embarrassment, (sexually) sensitive points.

They were halfway through the last page, which detailed a dragon's full range of movement, when Oromis and Glaedr returned. Pushing the scroll to the side, the students rose for their masters' test.

Not wasting time, Oromis immediately asked Eragon to demonstrate the point, and how much force it would require to disable Saphira's wing, then what was required to repair it.

Eragon walked over to her, muttered _sorry, _and swung his hand into the muscle below her wing joint. Saphira shuddered in pain and her wing fell limp. He waited a moment for Oromis and Glaedr to see the damage, then he pressed his thumb against the appropriate nerve. Her limb was restored, and Eragon muttered another apology and healed the lingering pain.

He couldn't stand doing this, hurting her, especially since he could feel her tremble in pain. He couldn't think of anything he resented more.

Oromis had him demonstrate many more times. Some were painful, some not. Sometimes he just asked which spots a dragon was weakest.

Eragon wanted to stop, the guilt was unbearable, amplified so much more when she cried out in her suffering. Saphira tried to hide it from him, but he knew too well, he knew it was there.

Though it had only been a few minutes, it seemed an age later when Oromis reached his last request. "Please demonstrate how to trigger the most painful reaction in her body."

Eragon shuddered. No greater damage could be done than this. Caused by slicing across the belly above the legs, the wound would stay open for months. If a dragon didn't bleed to death, most attempts at childbirth would result in a bloody and unliving mess for females, and males would not be able to mate at all. The scars, internal and out, could ruin dragons' lives.

Back in the days of the dragon war, the elves discovered it. Back then, only they could reverse the damage.

So… they used their knowledge on every dragon they could. When the dragons eventually learnt to protect that spot, they elves went for the neck instead.

But still they guarded their precious bodies, favouring death over that loss.

Children are everything to a dragon...

"No."

"No?" asked Oromis.

"I won't do it."

Oromis was silent for several moments. Eragon just turned to Saphira, thinking again what he'd been asked to do.

The idea repulsed him.

"I'm sorry."

Eragon's head snapped up. Though Oromis's face betrayed nothing, his eyes revealed the incredible guilt he felt. "I thought you two needed to understand. But maybe I pushed too hard. I apologise."

Glaedr turned to Saphira. _We still need to test you Bjartskular._

Saphira looked at Eragon.

_Don't worry, I'll be fine._

She was still unhappy.

For this time, Eragon placed a ward. Too risky to place on Saphira, because of her immense size. It was also impractical in battle, but right now it would do just fine. It was, in short, a ward that healed. Eragon altered the original wording of it so that it would only take affect after Saphira had reversed whatever damage she did to him.

...It hurt. No part of him could deny that, but it was nothing to what Durza's curse had been, nothing to what he felt when Arya had broken his heart.

This pain... meant nothing in comparison.

Last of all, she was requested the same Eragon was.

She immediately complied, shooting her tail toward his nether regions.

Eragon jerked his arms in to protect himself, but there was no need. She held her tail just before impact.

Nor could he have.

Eragon sweatdropped. There was too much power in any of her muscles for him to stop, let alone one of her strongest.

**"I believe, masters, that Eragon and I have already experienced this... particular... one."**

Oromis hid his surprise still, and smiled. "So you have." He collected the scrolls and passed them to Eragon. "Read these when you can, and always share what you learn." He sighed tiredly. "You two may go."

Eragon looked at him in surprise. "But we are still due here for hours!"

Oromis slumped against Glaedr's shoulder. "Be that as it may, I am weak, and need rest. I required Glaedr to be here to even come out today. Spend the rest of today doing as you wish. You could choose to do something productive, but that is entirely up to you."

_The same to you Saphira. _Rumbled Glaedr.

They both nodded. **"As you wish masters." **Eragon nodded to confirm her words.

As they flew away, as Shur'tugal and skulblaka should, Glaedr helped Oromis back into his little hut.

_So... what do you want to do?_

_Well, do you want to go hunting?_

Eragon grinned. _That sounds productive to me. But first, can we visit the treehouse? _She agreed.

Ten minutes and a considerable amount of energy later, the two flew over the forest, searching for prey.

_Do I get to play today?_ Asked Eragon.

_No thank you. I'm too worn from your spellcasting._

_Heh, you should be. I've cast a record number of them today._

She snorted and dived for a lone deer.

It never stood a chance. She lifted it up and performed the killing blow, then landed in a shady glade, which was covered in cool grass, smooth mushrooms and soft moss.

An excellent choice, in Eragon's opinion.

While he sat back and enjoyed the scenery, Saphira crunched down on her meal.

He had discovered another reason to accompany while hunting. Even though he always did these days, but it was good to have another reason to.

He enjoyed the taste of meat, seeping through their link. It tasted better off her tongue than it ever had on his own.

Nor did he feel guilt for enjoying it. To eat it himself would have gone against his values, but to taste it because of another... well. He doubted the elves had ever thought of that. Nor did he have a choice though. Neither knew the reason why it happened, it just did.

Eragon often wondered if any other riders felt their bond like he did. And if so, how many? Was it rare, or not... He decided to ask Oromis sometime.

Saphira seemed to share his curiosity.

_Do you think we would be any different, if we were raised in the time of the riders?_

Saphira swallowed a hunk of meat before replying. _Very much so. Different times, different teachers..._

_Different threats? _Offered Eragon.

_Exactly. We would have been raised among hundreds of other riders. Who knows, you and I may have found mates by now._

_I try not to think about it. I've been rejected, and you, well..._

She took a mighty bite out of her meal, finishing it and dragging along some of the plant life with it.

_Then let's not think about it, and just live each day as it comes._

Eragon looked at her quizzically. _I thought you already did?_

_Not completely. _She shuffled down so he could climb to her back.

_Where to now? _Asked Eragon.

She laughed softly, her _voice _augmented by a growl._ We follow out own advice, and go wherever the life takes us!_

He snorted. _With our luck, that'll get us into some sort of trouble._

Eragon braced himself as she took off.

_What? Us? Never. _

Eragon laughed.

---

---

Back in the sudden distance, where a dragon and rider had been just before, a breeze gushed by, ruffling the crushed grass.

Beside the moss, among the bloodied flora where a corpse recently was, black blood leaked into the mix.

It source, a mushroom. Bleeding from the dragon tooth that had torn it.

By the time it bled dry, a ring of death lay around it. But underneath it all, the lightning blue veins were still eerily visible.


	11. Transformation

Don't think. Don't decide. Just walk the path life sets before you.

...It's a lot harder than it sounds.

If you can succeed. If you aren't distracted. It can be a journey of self discovery and revelation as your subconscious takes over.

Eragon found himself in the strangest of places. Sometimes Saphira was with him, sometimes not. She had her own path to walk.

The hardest part of it all, was to not walk away, when fate told him to stay.

He waited, leaning against a tree. And waited. And waited. Finally, fate released him from its bonds and he walked away, seeking respite from that place.

The place of his worst memories... But he couldn't shake the feeling, the inevitable, crushing sensation, that this stream-lined glade was not finished with him yet.

In later hours, he saw many of the hidden wonders of Ellesmera. Things he had missed, on his earlier passings. There was so much to see. This forest was ever changing, growing, becoming more.

At one point he watched an elf spinning a vase. Slowly but masterfully crafting it to her will. When she noticed him looking she offered him a try.

He failed miserably. It was, in short, a lot harder than it looked. She just laughed with mirth and spun it, quickly restoring it to an excellent state.

In another moment he joined some in painting. Yet again he was outclassed, but he did not give up. No, his path had not bidden him to... not yet.

"Rhunon. Atra esterni ono thelduin"

She ignored him. Eragon watched in silence as she hammered a plate of steel. With his eyes, trained by practice with the sword, he could see that her blows were not measured, and the piece soon split in two.

It was painful to watch. More that it would have been, because he knew it was his fault.

"You lost it."

Eragon flinched at the sound of her voice.

She turned, her wiry muscles shaking. "You lost it, another blade to go to _him. _To be used to kill and forge destruction, until it outlives its use and then... then... he will destroy it."

As she trembled, Eragon realised just how much her works meant to her. She would have robbed herself of the greatest pleasures when she made her oath. In his mind, the swords she had wrought were her greatest works of all.

She sobbed silently, hiding it against the glow of the forge. "How did it happen?"

"Murtagh... the son of Morzan... he took it. The sword should match the dragon, as you once said. Zar'roc does match his."

When she was silent, he spoke on. "I know nothing I can say deserves it. But please accept my apology. Fate may have willed this so, but I do not intend to let it be forever."

Rhunon returned her gaze to the forge. "I will accept it when you recover it from him."

Just like before, Eragon could think of no way to change the subject. So... he left. But he swore to himself that he would, one day, return her children back to her.

---

---

Eventually, like the last time he had taken this path, he ended up at the menoa tree. Saphira had waited for him there, hanging her body over one of the great branches.

Eragon climbed to join her, using the ridges in the bark as handholds, then finally leaping from branch to branch till he reached his destination.

To all that walked by, it was an interesting sight. Rider and dragon, both resting, waiting, as the sun fled and the moon rose.

"My favourite sight."

Eragon and Saphira turned their heads to see Maud, sitting on a branch just above. She was in her human-like form, as a nude girl covered in matted hair. Her mouth was curved into a dangerous grin, and her eyes shone with twilight.

"For many I think."

"Aye." She replied.

_I prefer the moon. _Said Saphira.

The werecat cocked her head. "Do you now? Do you know why?

_Not really._

Maud chuckled. It was a strange sound. _I do..._

"... ..."

She turned her shaggy head to Eragon. "Hmm? You have a question?"

"You already know it, that was all I wanted to know."

"And therefore, I have answered it."

It was a strange feeling Eragon felt then, as he looked back at the moon. He remembered feeling it before, a change in the wind, a tremor in the ground. The all powerful feeling of fate collapsing in on itself, all over again.

Perhaps Saphira felt it too, because at that moment she spoke again. _...Why are you here?_

Maud grinned. It gave the impression she had been waiting for those words all along.

"Fate." Said the werecat.

_Then why are we here?_

"The same reason as I. So I could speak and you would listen."

Eragon raised an eyebrow. "Why? Because you want to, or because fate dictates that you should?"

The werecat ruffled her mane. "When you must find the lost cavern, begin your search with your first great treasure."

Maud waited while the words sunk in, then she leapt from the tree and out of sight. By the time she was visible again, all Eragon could see was the slim figure of a cat, walking away with its tail held high.

_Because, Shadeslayer, I will enjoy seeing her reaction._

---

---

_For the life of me, I cannot figure out what she meant by that._

Saphira landed in the treehouse moments before thunder struck, and rain began pouring down.

_You, we... are not meant to. At least not yet._

Eragon grunted and went to seal up the rest of their home. And then, as if realising what he had just done, Eragon sighed in boredom. _What do we do now?_

Saphira grinned and nudged him.

He turned, then followed her gaze.

_What are y... oh, __**definatly.**_

She happily padded after him as he entered their kitchen.

Eragon stood in front of the barrels and cleared his throat, as if making a speech.

_I enchanted each of these differently. _He presented the first barrel. _This is the one you tasted last night, and has some of the heaviest enchantments on it. Its purpose, as you might have figured, is to be strong enough to make even a dragon drunk._

_Also, I made it taste nicer than usual and did my best to null any effects it would have... _He gulped. _...the next morning._

Saphira shuddered with the memory.

Livening up, he moved to the next barrel. _These two I actually enchanted the same. Sweeter, slightly stronger, and much less on the negative effects, its almost like regular faelnirv._

Eragon opened one, and let her take a sip before closing it again.

_Do you like it?_

His reward was a pleased smile and a lick on the cheek.

_This last one is the most special. Unlike the other ones, this will not get anyone drunk. Regular faelnirv has a few special properties. It gives energy, sharpens the senses and focuses the mind._

Eragon tapped the barrel with his knuckles. _This version is much more potent._

Saphira looked at him expectantly, but he just laughed.

_I would give you some, but you wouldn't sleep tonight._

She still pouted.

Reaching underneath a bench, he retrieved a massive wooden jug. _We're still going to have fun yet!_

She roared in appreciation.

---

---

A while later, Eragon rested on Saphira's side while sipping faelnirv. The strong stuff.

He took another gulp, then put the jug back on the floor. Saphira dipped her tongue into the liquid and lapped up a mouthful.

...Eragon sighed. Maybe it was the fact that he was relaxed, listening to the rain. Maybe it was the liquor, pulling the chords in his head. But either way, he felt an unimaginable calm rush through him. Right now, this room had an ultimate sense of peace.

...And this time, he didn't have to ruin it.

Saphira seemed to feel as he did, and she began humming.

To her, it was merely a tune she had known for as long as she could remember. She had sung it for her first time when Eragon guessed her name. But now, in this moment, he knew it as well as she did.

He was no great singer, but he joined in anyway. As the words grew steadily stronger in his mind, he sung, letting her sing the tune in her own beautiful way. Her voice was alone in that way, but they were in tune together as no amount of practice would bring.

_Past the trees  
Over the grass  
Enter the cave  
Of dragons' past  
__**Little one, why won't you hatch for me?**_

_Your brothers are waiting  
Waiting for you to shake  
Waiting for you to rattle  
Waiting for your egg to break  
__**Little one, I'm waiting for you to hatch for me.**_

_For those who weren't free  
Those that I did lay  
My child, your time is almost up  
It's the chosen day  
__**Little one, I beg you to hatch for me...**_

_I can smell them coming  
I can see his scales against the sky  
You didn't hatch, so they'll take you  
My daughter... I don't understand why.  
__**Little one, your last chance to hatch for me.**_

Eragon paused, waiting for the words to come again. But when they did, he wasn't the one to speak them. Both he and Saphira slipped into a trance, dipping into the fey strains of ancient magic. The voice that rose in his throat wasn't his nor Saphira's, but melodic tones born of the dragon tongue. As the trance deepened, power took him, and a dark haze slipped over his eyes.

But when the haze cleared, he saw a sight through eyes different to his own.

_Past the trees  
Over the grass  
_The world shifted around him. It fell, giving him a bird's eye view beside flapping wings. A cave approached in the distance.  
_Enter the cave  
Of dragons' past  
_He entered the darkness. Within it was a great nest. A dragon rested in the middle. As he entered the dragon, a female, looked up at him. She cradled a sapphire egg within her paws.  
_**Little one, why won't you hatch for me?**_

Eragon's vision clouded over again.

_Your brothers are waiting  
Waiting for you to shake  
_As his sight cleared he looked down to his amethyst paws, where the egg was cradled between. Two baby dragons sat by his side, prodding it occasionally, as if trying to free their sister from her prison. A third snuggled against Eragon's side.  
_Waiting for you to rattle  
Waiting for your egg to break  
_Eragon looked up. In front of him was a huge diamond scaled dragon. He was surveying the nest and smiling. Taking in every image of his family.  
_**Little one, I'm waiting for you to hatch for me.**_

_For those who weren't free  
Those that I did lay  
_Eragon watched from the side this time, looking on as she turned the egg over and over in her paws.  
_My child, your time is almost up  
It's the chosen day  
_She breathed a gush of flame on the egg, warming it, alighting its aquamarine depths, trying to push it along.  
_**Little one, I beg you to hatch for me...**_

_I can smell them coming  
I can see his scales against the sky  
_Eragon looked out of the cave, and into the sky where a diamond dragon floated on the wind.  
_You didn't hatch, so they'll take you  
My daughter... I don't understand why.  
_As the dragon landed before him, and an elf dismounted from its back, Eragon pulled the egg closer to himself, desperately whispering, begging it to come to life...  
_**Little one, your last chance to hatch for me.**_

_Your father tries to comfort me  
But I won't look him in the eye  
_All he could look at was the elf. Just watch in silent agony as he took the egg away. _My child... no..._  
_His rider took away your egg  
And I broke down to cry  
_Eragon looked away, to the depths of the dark cave. Tears began to well in his eyes.  
_**Little one, why wouldn't you hatch for me?**_

_...Days have passed  
Your brothers have grown  
But I still look to the sky  
Hoping to see again the daughter of my own  
_Eragon looked at the dragonlings scampering around the nest, and felt a hidden pride. But every now and again he gazed into the sky, secretly hoping to see a flash of sapphiric blue.  
_**Little one, I still don't know, why wouldn't you hatch for me?**_

_Years gone past, the world grows dark  
Now we fight to live  
So many have fallen, we dragons are dieing  
We don't have much left to give.  
_Eragon watched in horror as a brown dragon and its rider cut down dragon after dragon that entered their path. As he watched, three fell from the sky in a burst of blade, talon and blood.  
Their screams ripped through the sky.  
The brown dragon flapped closer, closer to the cave, closer to the dragon's nest, where new eggs lay.  
As long as she had breath, Vervada would never let that happen. The clouds tore as she plunged through them, slamming her amethyst hide into the betraying shur'tugal.  
_**Little one, was this why you didn't hatch for me?**_

_My blood drains, for I am spent  
Broken shells lie all around  
My last breath comes, I'll die too  
Blood is mixing across the ground  
_As the vision returned one last time he was greeted with a shocking sight.  
The traitor dragon and his rider, both impaled against the sharp spars of the cliff wall. Though, they had been killed by their attacker long before their bodies were dragged onto the stony daggers.  
Flies were already attacking the corpses. Swarming around the giant globes of blood that fell to the ground far below.  
Eragon turned away, unable to watch the gruesome sight. As he went to enter the cave, he heard a ragged gasp. Within, Vervada lay in a pool of her own blood. Beside her head, the multicoloured fragments of broken shells. Even as he looked on, tears still leaked into the mix.  
He could do nothing but watch as she continued to bleed, her beautiful features obscured by the great rents where her flesh had been torn.  
As her breaths became less and less, he felt himself being swept away. In the darkness, her melodic voice spoke one last time.  
_**My Saphira... I'm glad you didn't hatch for me.  
**_And the storm cleaver died.

---

---

Even as his mind woke, the dragon's song still echoed in his mind.

Saphira shifted behind him. In his minds eye, he saw her look into the distance, as if trying to understand what had just happened.

Seeking respite, he got up and removed the covering on the exit. Cold wind rushed in, and he sighed in satisfaction as the water struck his skin.

Saphira broke from her trance, and joined him at the door.

_...Lets go out._

She turned to look at him, droplets of rain dripping from her muzzle. _What?_

_Lets go out, lets go for a walk._

_In the rain?_

_**Because **__of the rain._

She leant her head to the side, considering it._ Ok, lets go then._

Eragon began walking outward, then stopped. _Just a second. _He quickly got changed, getting dressed in nothing but light clothing and strapping Kroxis to his side. No gloves, belt or anything else. Not tonight, tonight he could handle some mud between his toes.

Next, he picked up the half empty jug of faelnirv to take a sip of it, and gave a shudder of excitement as he felt its effects engulf his veins.

Last, with Saphira's consent, he poured the rest down her throat. Her limbs twitched with energy, and a bubbly personality seemed to fight its way to the surface.

_Can we go now! _It wasn't really a question.

Eragon chuckled. _Yep._

He grabbed the bony spine of her cheekbone and pulled her through the precipice, entering the cool embrace of water.

Saphira jumped of the edge while he sealed the door, and then leapt after her.

It was a marvellous sight, to watch rain fall around. Eragon fell only slightly slower than it, so he saw it in a different light as millions of droplets slowly worked their way past. Large raindrops, small raindrops, all rippling, at every conceivable height, falling just beside him. Each and every one capturing their own light, leaving Eragon in a maelstrom of colour.

As the ground drew ever closer, he called upon magic to slow his decent, and he touched down lightly beside Saphira.

For the second time today, they walked.

They were in a maze, for they could not see in the oppressive rain when it was coupled with darkness so, even with Saphira's night vision. A few times they nearly walked into a trees as they seemed to appear before them.

But nevertheless, he had a destination in mind, one outside the darkness of tree cover, to allow the light of the moon. A reward for having left the warmth of the city, as he slowly led her out of Ellesmera.

Eragon wasn't entirely sure why or when it happened, but at some point they began singing again. Even though these words had no power in them, something still felt strange. In later days, he would still remember the songs they sung.

The song of Ravana, the black dragon. He was born in death, into a prejudiced world. He suffered for his whole life, until, finally, he found a mate who was like him, and who would take him as he was. They found solace for a time, until those who still wore the prejudice came and destroyed all he cared for. Both mate and eggs.

The song of the dark-eyed swordsman. He had fought to win and lose, had loved and lost, whose fate was as twisted as Eragon's own. But the song stopped half way through, as if unfinished.

When they found they could not continue it, they sang of the storyteller. He had walked a cursed existence, destined to give everything away in sacrifice for others, even his own life. But even after death he was not finished his story and, like its brother, the words would not come... yet.

Eragon paused in his stride, taking a moment to wipe wet hair from his eyes. He looked to Saphira, whose body caught both the rain and far off moon. Her figure was bathed in ethereal light. And from what he could tell, Saphira could see the same from him.

After a few more moments they began again, venturing into the darkness with a song in their hearts.

The next was of the rider Acuio. Both he and his dragon were scorned by the point of their affections, but in the end, they found more love within each other than they could ever have hoped for.

Moments after those lyrics finished they began to sing of the silver dragon Skade. She had found family, and lost it. Found a home, and had it destroyed. She found a friend, and was betrayed. She had even found love, but she had to give it away. In the end, she sook out respite and something that may have been no more than a dream.

Both sung in perfect timing, perfect accuracy. The words never slipped away. After that of Skade, they sung of a man possessed by spirits. Not a shade, not quite. But completely obsessed by an ideal, enough to will himself to ruin the life of a family, by trying to take their only child away.

_We're here._

Saphira blinked and looked up. In front of her was a lake, one of the few around Ellesmera. It stretched wide, creating a great gap between the trees. The surface constantly rippled, moving to the beat of the weeping sky.

But the truly magnificent feature was the light of the moon, caught at random moments by the lake, making it look like thousands of jewels shining with rainbow light.

_Its... beautiful._

Eragon smiled_. I hoped you'd like it._

She slowly entered the water, creating only thin lines on its surface. _I don't like it... I __**love **__it._

He took off his shirt as well as removing Kroxis and slipped into the water. He was already soaked, so he didn't feel a rush of cold on his flesh. No, he felt heated as the warmer water of the lake touched him.

It gave him an idea.

_Saphira?_

_Yes? _She asked cheerfully.

_Can you heat this place up a bit?_

As she reached deeper parts of the lake, she swam a few strokes before opening her maw to the water. A great cloud of steam rose as she breathed, and the water quickly became warm, bordering on hot.

Eragon grinned and disappeared underwater.

Saphira finished breathing and closed her mouth, then turned to where he had been. _Eragon?_

She suddenly lurched as she felt familiar fingers attack her stomach. She dived deep under, and when his presence still didn't go away, she leapt out into the air. Eragon held on until she rose twenty feet, then leapt and dived back into the water.

_Eragon! That wasn't fair!_

He resurfaced and stuck his tongue out at her.

In reply she dived back in as well, showering him in the splash. She shot through the water, grabbing Eragon and pulling him under.

As she held him underneath, they stared at each-other, meeting the challenge. Saphira was looking him with an expression of _'lets see you get out of this.'_

Eragon smirked widely, and reached out with his arm, touching her in what had been clearly defined in Oromis's scrolls as... a _sexual_ point.

Out of shock she released him, and he kicked to the surface.

_ERAGON!_

He laughed out loud as she poked her head out of the water, a rosy blush spreading across her cheeks.

_You... YOU..._

_Are blushing up a storm. _Said Eragon, trying not to laugh. _I didn't know you had that much blood._

She yelped and immediately pulled her head under until only her eyes were visible. _Ooooh you're gonna pay._

Eragon only laughed more. _Not yet, there's something I want to show you._

He swam out to her and lifted her head up out of the water, enough to balance himself on her. As he did, the rain moved on, giving them a few moments of peace. Above, the moon shone brighter than ever.

Saphira gave him a questioning look as momentarily scrubbed his scarred palm.

_What are you..._

_Shh. I'll show you. _He raised the his arm to the sky. As the light flickered on his palm, the dragon mark became dark, as if absorbing the light.

It was doing just that. Eragon held it high for several moments before bringing it down. He held it before them both, and whispered a single word. "Saphira..."

Eragon felt a strange feeling as his body reacted to the magic he had imprinted on himself. A rush of heat ran through him, and the scar lit up in a sapphire glow.

It was true that the dragon was merely a scar, but it held a greater meaning to them both. The colour matched Saphira's scales perfectly, but shone with the light of the heavens.

_Eragon... what... why..._

He smiled happily. This was something he'd wanted to explain for a while now. _This is the symbol of my devotion to you. I have the gedwey ignasia, but that only means I am a rider. This... this means I am __**your**__ rider._

Saphira stared at it, entranced by its gentle glow. _It will only shine strongly in moonlight, and then, only when I think of you._ He took a short breath._ ...Do you remember when I was scarred all over? You said you thought it was artistic. You enjoyed the fact that I was a bit more like yourself. Well... now I am even more so. Forever._

She seemed awestruck, she looked at him, then back to his palm. Leaning in, she pushed her nose into it, nuzzling the symbol embeddened in his skin.

A shock ran down Eragon's arm, like a bolt of lightning had struck him. Saphira felt something also. The all to familiar feeling she always felt when she touched that palm, but magnified tenfold. And yet she still could not understand what it was.

Above, a bolt of real lightning struck, and both let themselves sink into the water before the cold hit them. Underneath, they both opened their eyes, both illuminated by the fey symbol, which was suddenly glowing brighter than ever.

Saphira's eyes went wide. It was more than what she saw, it was also what she felt at that moment. What had grazed her flesh. Their eyes locked on each-other, and she swore that at that moment, his held something different entirely. They were not as they had always been, but she knew those eyes.

Moments later, Eragon swam up for breath, and the image faded. But Saphira stayed under, not really breathing at all right now. She tried to comprehend it all.

Had it really happened? Was it all just a trick of the light? Had she not seen what she thought she had?

But what about what she had felt? Was that real?

Had she really felt claws softly graze her muzzle? Had she really seen his eyes go thin as they morphed into a dragon's piercing stare?

Had she really seen wings burst from his back, in just that moment?

* * *

Well guys, (and girls) you get got an extra long chapter. What do you think of it?  
I've got another good one coming, and it'll have a BIG fight scene. And not just that.  
As some might have noticed, the songs they sung, (except the first, the one in which they fell into a trance), were references from other stories. In order of appearance they are:  
1. Lost dragon - Eragon  
2. These black eyes - Teen titans  
3. Titans' Song - Teen titans  
4. Eragon and Saphira - Eragon  
5. Skade - Eragon (sequel to lost dragon)  
6. Angela's gift - Eragon  
All of the above are an excellent read, and if you're a teen titans fan, the two up there are the best there is. 


	12. A morning to be ruined

_Silver eyes, gold eyes, green eyes, blue eyes._

_Shadows basked in twilight._

_Four souls entwined, but soon enough gold eyes and green eyes departed, and silver and blue were left to dance alone..._

_The strongest bond of them all._

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Saphira woke and shrugged off the dreams, immediately centering her thoughts on the night before.

Had she seen what she thought she saw?

Was it real?

She didn't know.

Saphira looked to her sleeping rider, who was still unaware of what had happened last night. She couldn't entirely remember how they got home last night, and, she doubted he did either.

_Home. _The thought sounded so alien to her. _Home. Her home. __**Their**__ home._

For a moment she watched the sunrise, then she leant under her wing and prodded him in the side. _Eragon..._

He grumbled. _Lemme sleep Saphira._

She smirked, and an idea suddenly came to her. Reaching around with her tail, she flicked its soft tip up and down his foot, which was still caked in mud from the night before.

It still worked though, and Eragon pulled in his foot with an exasperated grumble. She switched to the other foot for the same effect, except for a louder complaint.

After that she proceeded to attack every remaining part of his exposed skin, which, unfortunately for Eragon, was a lot.

_Traitor._

She laughed. _It's almost time to go. Besides, I want you to clean off the mud I'm wearing._

He grumbled again. _So I'm your slave now?_

Saphira smirked toothily. _No, as you pointed out so dramatically last night, you're __**my **__rider. And your dragon wants to be clean!_

Eragon slowly got up, shaking off sleep. _How about where we were last night? Its big enough for both of us, and it might still be warm._

She seemed to consider that for a moment, or many moments in Eragon's eyes, like there was some reason she did or didn't want to go back there.

_Sure... lets go._

Eragon grabbed his things, including a change in clothes. He wrapped them all in a bundle, and carried them in one arm and grabbed on to one of Saphira's deep blue spikes with the other.

She quickly took to the sky, flying with a haste fuelled by the idea of being clean again.

As they passed over Ellesmera a strange scent reached Eragon's nostrils. A mix of lavender and wild berries, as well as something else he couldn't identify, drifted on the wind.

Eragon closed is eyes and took in a deep breath. It swirled in his nostrils, making him feel slightly light-headed. His dragon palm, which had been feeling strange all morning, tingled and glowed softly.

The scent was soon gone, and in its absence Eragon could smell other things, the amassed growth and life of a forest after long awaited rain. Everything looked, and smelt, fresh and renewed.

Ten minutes out of Ellesmera they arrived at their destination. It was still mildly warm from last night, but he had Saphira heat it again, and she did so until steam rose.

Eragon put his things on the bank and got in to join Saphira, who had dived in almost straight away.

As she requested, he began scrubbing the mud from her body. He used his bare hands and fingers for his work, removing numerous flecks of dirt that hung from and between her scales. The hot water helped immensely, and her back and tail were soon clean.

For her belly he dived under, using his dragon palm as a light. It had been glowing stronger since he revealed it to her last night. The dirt came off even easier, and Eragon only had to dive five times to have it completely clean.

Last of all was her head, which Eragon spent a while on. He carefully cleaned between each individual scale, removing months worth of pent up grime. Saphira closed her eyes during, allowing herself to enjoy the soft touches of his fingers as they mapped the lines and curves of her unprotected flesh. Between the gentle scrubbing and the hot water, Saphira began to fall asleep right there.

But then something happened to bring her crashing back to earth. The sudden feeling of claws, instead of fingers, once again touching her face. Her eyes snapped open, but by the time they did, the feeling was gone.

_Oh sorry. Did I touch a sore muscle? Let me fix it for you._

Saphira said nothing, so he began kneading his hands into her bony features, trying to relax whatever nerve he had aggravated.

She thought it best to let him think that, so she didn't protest, and when he was sure she was comfortable again he resumed scrubbing. But she never reached the same level of relaxation as she had before.

_An illusion can't happen twice... can it? I felt it... ...What is wrong with me?_

---

---

Eragon stood on the bank, wiping off as much water as he could. Quite sure they were alone, he had removed his wet clothing.

He shook off the remaining drops and got dressed. After that he squeezed the wet clothing till most of the water came out, then laid it to the side as he went to collect the rest of his possessions.

When he went to strap on Kroxis he paused. It had changed. The vines of the hilt and sheath, normally a dark green, where now almost luminescent in colour. Eragon drew the blade, and discovered that the white steel of the sword had changed to green like the rest, though more like an emerald in appearance. The diamond shone brighter than ever.

Then it came to him. He knew Kroxis was alive, just like everything else. But he had not thought that it still require what other plants did. It needed water too, and, Eragon suspected, sunlight. After being drenched last night, it should be no surprise it would start to shift more towards its true form.

_Interesting..._

_Huh?_ Asked Saphira.

_Never mind. _She had seemed distracted all morning. He had noticed it quickly, but he didn't know why... Shaking off the thoughts, he decided to ask later.

Thankfully she still concentrated while flying, though he doubted her level of skill even required her to. They made a quick pit stop to drop off the wet clothes. Minutes later they arrived at the training grounds, early, to find five elves waiting, Vanir being a sixth.

_Screw this._

Saphira raised an eyebrow at him.

When Saphira landed he jumped off her and stepped into the middle of the grounds. Eragon took a moment to clear his throat, and then spoke loud enough for all to hear. "Hey? **HEY!** Can I get everyone's attention please!"

Eragon waited while the fighting stopped before, then he spoke to them all. "These few here..." he motioned to Vanir and co. "...Have been fighting me for over a month to no avail, so, they wish to know how many opponents it will take to bring me down. Now here I present my challenge. Any who wish to join in may do so. The rules are simple, I am your only opponent, your blade must be guarded, and if you lose yours or have one held to a vital point, you lose. Same thing if you get hit anywhere, but I encourage all contestants to try to minimise damage. I have the same rules on me."

Eragon paused for a moment as they considered the conditions. "Now for some advice. One. Be careful with your attacks, we don't want any nasty injuries, and you're only trying to get me, not any of your team-mates."

"Two. Watch your surroundings, anyone who was seen me fight before will know I make a habit of sending swords flying."

"Three. Work together, you'll be the most successful that way."

"Four. Last of all, if Kroxis here..." Eragon lifted up the emerald green blade. "...does anything weird..." He looked to the dragon sword as if patronising it. "...Do your best to ignore it."

Eragon placed Kroxis' sheath by Saphira, and cleared his mind, also taking a moment to magically guard Kroxis' air splitting blade, and doing his best to prepare for what would undoubtedly be an epic fight.

Around the clearing, elves were whispering to each other or guarding their blades. Saphira reached over and gingerly licked Eragon on the cheek, wishing him good luck. Eragon just smiled and reached within his mind, then across into hers. She happily obliged, agreeing his need of her additional input of senses.

Last of all, Eragon relaxed into a battle stance and said a final word to the crowd. "Good luck, and join in whenever you're ready."

And with that he turned to the few elves already prepared.

Vanir stood at the back with his arms crossed, his sword not even drawn yet. Waiting...

Eragon's lips curved slightly. Vanir knew him well. He knew it wasn't good to go in right away. It was better to wait for the rhythm of the battle to show itself. Eragon didn't have that choice, but he knew he would grasp it soon enough.

Eragon continued the stand off, waiting for just the right time. The right time to charge in. The right time to fight and fight until he could no more. He held no fantasy of this battle. Eragon knew that even if he went to his very limits, something had to give. He could not hope to win against so many. If they were human, he would be more than able. But elves? Elves who bore the same inhuman speed he used to covet? Elves who already had centuries to hone their skills? No, this was not something possible of any elf, nor rider that he knew.

It was a dull thought, to know that he was, by far, the youngest of them all. Even more so, that Saphira was little more than a year old. But like Eragon, their experiences, both good and bad, had turned them into something else, and their true ages did not show.

A breeze blew by, throwing grass and leaves into disarray. _Not yet..._

Augmented by the experiences of each other, Saphira and Eragon acted with an experience beyond what it should be, even if their ages were combined.

A leaf fell from a tree nearby. Caught in the breeze, it rushed through the air, landing on Kroxis's dulled edge, and slowly sliding down until it reached the ground.

The time was now...


	13. Knight in scaled armor

Eragon charged into the fray with blinding speed, batting away two blades as they came to meet him. The five elves rushed to circle him, but Eragon charged at a single one as he was isolated from the rest of group. He blocked the attack of the defender and quickly batted the blade to the side. He avoided the other elves as they went to help, then flipped over his opponent's head while swinging Kroxis, and knocked the sword from his hands.

The others in the grounds seemed to catch on, and moments after Eragon eliminated the first three took his place.

Eragon staggered in difficulty as he blocked three swords at once. Regaining his balance just in time to duck a high swing, he then hit two in the ankles with the blunt edge. Eragon dived to the side, just out of the circle of combatants. A split second later, the earth erupted as multiple blades were thrust into the ground where he had stood moments before.

The whole time Vanir just stood in the same place, smiling, watching the fight with hungry eyes.

But Eragon didn't have the time to think about it. Just dodge and block as more and more elves piled into the melee.

Eragon was surrounded... _**again.**_

"Not your day Shadeslayer?" Said an elf in the crowd.

Vanir still stood unmoving, grinning silently, as though something about this fight was extremely amusing to him.

He knew, the other elves hadn't recognised it, but he had.

Either way, Vanir still didn't make any sign of it as the ones closest to Eragon leapt toward him. All eight of them.

Eragon met one in mid air. He kicked off him roughly, shooting toward his other opponents, also leaving the poor elf to crash land into the ground-locked crowd.

Three airborne elves swung at him as he approached. He parried each individually, then, in a miraculous display of flexibility, jumped of the them, using their blunted edges as stepping stones to reach the elves furthest up.

Eragon flicked Kroxis toward the four swords speeding toward him. But in the last second, he pivoted in mid air, hitting the opposite side of the blades with his, also pulling his legs out of harms way in the final moment. Using the elves own strength against them, he tore the weapons from their fingers, sending them soaring toward the ground.

Elves jumped out of the way as the bright metal approached, but the one who didn't see them coming was caught by his clothes, and pinned to the ground. Upon looking at his predicament, and the shiny piece of steel pinning him between his legs, he promptly fainted.

Out of the eight that jumped at him, only three made it back down with their swords. Those few had suffered a rough landing however, though extremely gentle in comparison to those who were taken out by the split second skirmish.

As Eragon came back down, he surveyed the new opponents entering the melee. But as he cast his sight from one to another, he noticed something different.

Vanir was gone.

His blood froze. Instantly, he flung Kroxis behind him, protecting himself against what even Saphira had not seen coming. Eragon knew Vanir's tactics all too well, and that saved him.

No sooner had he blocked that a familiar strength pounded against his defence. Vanir pushed a little more against his strength, then leaned in and whispered silkily into Eragon's ear. "Stop it… It's no fun if you hold back."

"I have to give them a chance don't I?" Eragon whispered back.

Eragon thought as if he could hear the grin that he knew was spreading across Vanir's smooth features. "If you pity them, they will hate you for it. Defeat is the best teacher. So for all our sakes, don't hold back... especially against me."

A flicker of amusement shot across Eragon's face. "As you wish..."

Eragon pulled away, his feet touching the grass moments before Vanir's. Eragon twisted, and before Vanir could regain his footing he spun and struck his blade with a massive amount of force. Enough to push him back. He immediately jumped after him, and Vanir was forced to jump backward, or risk losing his sword to Eragon's built up momentum.

The elves had stood back to allow a battle of the titans, but they still cleared a path as the both shot through, but Eragon still had to duck, jump and parry as they continued to swing at him. As he left the path, still slightly unbalanced from the ferocity of the final attempt on him, Vanir appeared out of nowhere and swung with all his might at Eragon's chest.

Eragon only just managed to raise Kroxis in time, but he was knocked to the ground by the raw power of the blow.

"I thought I told you to stop holding back!" shouted Vanir as he struck again.

"I'm not!" shouted back Eragon as he parried the blow, sending it into the soil between his legs. Using that moment he rolled backward, putting his feet on the ground once again.

"Then why am I beating you?" Vanir shouted again as he ran up to Eragon. The whole time he dragged his sword through the ground, shaking a cloud of dust in his wake. Eragon dug in and blocked, then jumped back to avoid the cloud of choking dust.

As he stood waiting for the dust to clear or Vanir to emerge from it, he muttered something into the dark haze of dirt. "I don't know. I thought I fought best when I was being challenged, when I had an opponent. Maybe that isn't enough anymore."

A breeze ran past, shaking up more dust, but at the same time, clearing some away.

"...You never fought best that way..."

Eragon's head snapped up, and as he watched the dust began to change, swirling around a single figure.

"...Your best, Shadeslayer, always came from something infinitely more noble."

Vanir burst from the cloud, charging with his blade ready by his side.

Eragon's eyes went wide. Vanir had not gone for him...

…He had charged at Saphira.

_...No... _His breath caught in his throat. _**NO! Don't you dare touch her!**_

The world seemed to blur around him as he moved. The next thing he knew he was standing before Vanir, blocking his blade with Kroxis in a single hand.

Vanir smiled. Yes, this was what he wanted. This was what he had hoped for.

"You fight you hardest... when you have someone to protect."

Eragon snarled and kicked Vanir in the chest, sending him rolling into the grass twenty feet away. His mind had gone blank, everything had faded... except for one, a single thought.

_Saphira..._

Eragon turned to her, looking into her deep blue eyes. He reached out with his hand to brush her face, baring himself a single moment of intimacy and reassurance before looking back to those who had dared threaten his dragoness.

It was then Eragon felt something brush against his mind. The welcome touch of his emerald green sword, grasping onto his consciousness. Borrowing his power as much as he did of it.

As his mind opened even further, greater power still surged through him. Eragon snared it, absorbing it into the maelstrom of energy and strength rapidly growing within him. Soon enough, his mind reached its limits and the gates between his mind and body snapped open, flooding him with immeasurable power.

Saphira's eyes become wide, unbelieving of what they were seeing. She, too, had felt the fey strains reaching out to him, digging their claws into very soul. She was witnessing something within him change, and before her eyes he became something else. In her eyes, he was once again the creature from the night before. Neither dragon nor elf, but something that had surpassed such undiscovered barriers of existence.

Was she imaging it? The stunned faces of the elves watching silenced that thought. All frozen, with wide eyes and gaping mouths... bar one.

The most skilled amongst them. An elf who watched Eragon's shifting form with the difference of amusement. Even as the dragon sword, the _leafblade _in the creature's hand lit up in blue flames, which clashed magnificently with the bright green of the metal and made it seem that instead Kroxis was bathed in aquatic green light.

Even then, the elf's lips curved sharply.

Vanir felt a feeling of success rise within himself, but this was soon squashed by the wince that smoothed across his face. Under his breath he muttered, "This... is gonna hurt."

Before all their eyes, the dragonling disappeared. It moved with so fast that no-one saw its movements, even when it reappeared thirty feet away in the middle of the bunched crowd of warriors.

As the ethereal strains of the strange magic stopped sustaining him, the image faded, and it became Eragon once more.

No... this was a part of him Saphira had yet to understand. This was the part of him that cared for her more than life. The part that was growing stronger every day.

With no indifference spared, Eragon attacking the elves, who were all unprepared for the vengeful warrior that had suddenly appeared in their midst.

In a flash of sparks and aquamarine flame, five elves were disarmed, and the rest turned to him.

What happened next was a blur. Several swords suddenly went flying, several other elves also dropped theirs as a result of sudden burns.

From outside the fight, Vanir paused for a second, then decided to leap over the other elves sp he could rejoin the fight. As his feet left the ground, a shadow of a figure sprang from within the battle circle and slammed into him before he even had the chance to react. Again, Eragon pivoted in mid air. With Kroxis in his left arm, Eragon grabbed Vanir and threw him with all his might.

Vanir hit the ground hard. His body part a crater indented in the earth. But by doing this, Eragon had been put off guard. A split second after Vanir had been thrown, an elf pressed his sword to Eragon's neck.

Eragon froze. The battle was over.

...So why couldn't he accept it?

A part of him wanted to rage on, regardless of the consequences.

Eragon struggled to keep it under control. When he finally managed to repress it, the flame of his dragon blade disappeared, and he looked up, intending to discover who had defeated him.

...Black hair... blue eyes... calm expression. Meraborn, of course. His other opponent, second only to Vanir. Meraborn, or Mera as Eragon liked to call him, was an excellent opponent no matter what the circumstances.

Pausing again to regain his strange feelings, Eragon stood up straight. "Well done Mera."

Meraborn smirked. "And yet, I wouldn't dare go up against you by myself."

Eragon patted him on the shoulder, then moved on to assess the damage he had done.

It wasn't as bad as Eragon had thought. He healed some burns, and a few nasty bruises, but the worst damage was a few of Vanir's ribs. Eragon muttered several apologies while healing them, but Vanir shrugged it off. In Vanir's mind, he had gotten exactly what he wanted. After all, bruises and bones can heal, but skill was irreplaceable.

Upon finishing he turned to the elves once again. "I hope you all learnt something from the battle. I thank you all for a good match."

With that, Eragon walked to Saphira and replaced Kroxis in its sheath. Now that his thoughts had returned to him, his mind was an absolute mess of thoughts.

Saphira didn't say much, he presumed she was still thinking about what had kept her distracted all morning. But now, she was not alone in that aspect. Why had it been so hard to let go of the battle? Why had been so vicious when Saphira had been threatened?

No answers came to him, no matter how hard he tried.

Though, he knew why he had lost. It was not because he had singled out Vanir, or gone at such a length to defeat him. Nor was it because his skill was not enough. Eragon knew he had lost because his body had failed him where his skill had not.

An elf can only become so fast. They still have some restrictions of mortality, and thus, his body had not been as powerful or quick as his skill willed it to be.

The forest swam beneath them, and nether paid attention. Eragon hadn't even noticed himself mount her back, or that she had took off. Nor had there been notice of them both being in the air. All of which had occurred several minutes ago.

What happened next snapped him out of his state.

A dragon's roar ripped through the morning air, shaking the remaining dew from the trees.

Eragon nearly slid from his position as Saphira suddenly jerked in surprise as well.

The roar was not of anger or injury, but a mournful cry, drenched in pain and loss.

Saphira turned toward the sound, and flew as fast as she could toward it.

Both knew from the moment they heard it, what it meant. Neither needed to see it to know that at this moment Glaedr would be standing at the crags of Telanir, releasing his lament into the air.

Oromis was dead.


	14. Fire and Ice

...Glaedr had expected it for so long.

Day by day as he watched his rider's health fall apart, he always believed that he too would enter the void, with Oromis by his side. He had... **wanted**... to die with him. But when it did not happen...

He had stayed with Oromis all night, trying to prolong the inevitable with his mighty endowment of strength. But despite his efforts, the great hand of death cannot be stopped. Such is the way of life... Dark, empty and unforgiving.

Or at least Glaedr thought so.

For so long, he believed he knew the day of his death. So when it did not come, when the cold void did not claim him as well, he didn't know what to do.

What could a person do, when they have nothing?

No hopes...

No dreams...

No point in life, except to exist...

What was there left to do...?

---

---

As Saphira landed on the crags of telanir, Eragon took in the scene before him.

Glaedr lay beside Oromis's hut, between his single paw and outstretched wing was a single, unmoving creature. Eragon caught a flash of silver hair before Glaedr covered it up, and then the dragon let out another mournful cry.

Slowly, Eragon and Saphira went to go to Glaedr's side, but he lashed out at them as soon as they approached, and they only just evaded his foot long teeth.

So instead, they waited. Not away, but not close either. Eragon lay against Saphira's side, and she in turn had head leaning against his legs.

Waiting.

Tears trickled down Glaedr's scaly cheeks, and still they waited.

Elves arrived, some he knew, some he didn't. Late into the morning Islanzadi arrived, already wearing a mourning dress of black silk and a dark lace veil.

All took Eragon's unspoken message, and waited as well.

Waiting.

The silence was eerie. In such a crowd Eragon would have expected so much more. But no. The only sound was of Glaedr's occasional trembling, and thus his belly scraping across the soil and stone.

_...I've been waiting to die for so long._

Eragon and Saphira, as well as a few elves, looked up as Glaedr raised his head, his grand features streaked with golden tears.

_But now I know it will not happen. Though I may have been left on this earth, I do not understand why..._

He stood up and turned to the crowd. Oromis's body was now visible, but it was thoroughly protected beneath him.

_This is a strange life I now have to live. I now walk alone in my path, and the future is covered in naught but mist for me. This life is not something to wish for, I even __**wish**__ for death. _

_...Wishes are always in vain. _

The dragon took a sharp breath before continuing. _But most of all, for a Shur'tugal or bonded Skulblaka, this... existence... is loneliness beyond imagining._

With those words, Glaedr fell silent, and he momentarily retreated from everyone's mind.

Islanzadi took the moment to speak. "Let this not be an occasion to be mourned. The last of the old riders has passed, but do not fret over what may have been, but rather celebrate for what was. That is Oromis's legacy. Let it not be forgotten..."

Glaedr waited for a moment, and then lifted Oromis's body in his teeth. Carefully, he placed it on the bed in the hut, the tip of his mouth only just fitting in the door, and reached out once more to the crowd. _Tonight... _He growled.

_Tonight... _Thought Eragon.

---

---

To Eragon, the elves concept of a funeral was strange.

It was decided to leave his home as it was, a lasting tribute to his memory.

They dressed him for the ceremony in the finest silks, Glaedr following the body wherever it went.

But others returned to their homes, looking for a way to commemorate him. Eragon and Saphira were some of those.

The funeral was to happen that evening, but they spent most of that time in the one place, occasionally changing how they sat so another poor muscle could suffer. They thought about it for hours, trying to decide what they could do. What would be remembered? What would be a lasting tribute? But when their separate ideas finally collided, they decided to do something as Oromis would have wished. _As one._

...But even though they decided... some things have to be done right.

---

---

Saphira looked over to her rider. He was deep in thought, contemplating when, where and above all, _how,_ they were going to pull off what they had planned.

But that was just a bare and obvious truth. Any who looked upon him in this moment, or touched his mind like she always did, would know that it was just a distraction, one that he chose for himself.

A distraction from his pain.

To Eragon, Oromis had been a friend, someone other than Saphira, that he could always talk to, and someone who would look out for him.

Saphira already did many things, but there were moments lately where she would dip into her thoughts, and they were such that she would not allow him to intrude upon them.

Eragon could only imagine what she thought about.

But Oromis... Above all else, the old rider had been a sort of father figure to him. Like Brom before, and now he had lost another one. It felt like he had lost Garrow all over again.

_Eragon._

He was still, showing no sign whether he had heard or not.

_Eragon..._

Eragon turned slowly, tiredly meeting Saphira's warm gaze. _What is it?_

_Fly with me._

_I don't have the time right now. I need to..._

_No. _She reached over and prodded him firmly with her nose._ I need to do this. You need to do this. As your dragon, this isn't a request, it's an order!_

He was surprised at her anger, and this was enough to for him to forget... At least for a few moments. All pretence forgotten, he stood up and walked to her side, about to climb to her back.

_Wait, get the saddle._

He looked at her weirdly. _Why? I haven't needed it in ages._

She grinned, slightly exposing her teeth. _You will..._

Eragon shook his head and collected the saddle. As he shook of the dust, he paused. This was the one Oromis had given him. _But when comfort is allowed... use this one. _The words, however insignificant, rang in his mind.

Saphira, not allowing such thoughts, prodded him again, but roughly this time._ Hurry up slowpoke._

She had succeeded yet again. He shook of the memories and began strapping the saddle. It had been so long he had almost forgotten how to, but he eventually managed. Finally, he strapped in his arms and legs to the smooth leather, and Saphira bounded to the edge of the treehouse platform and took to the sky.

---

---

How long had it been since they went out and just flew? For the sheer thrill of it, or maybe just to spend time with each other?

Far too long, in his opinion. And from what he could tell, Saphira felt the same.

The ground rushed far below. So fast Saphira could fly now, that it took mere minutes to escape the borders of Ellesmera.

Like the last time he had flown with her, he suddenly became aware of something tickling his senses. A soft scent, smelling of lavender and wild berries. Eragon immediately began searching for it, determined to find its source this time.

To no avail however, for he felt Saphira's presence in his mind, more strong and powerful as to normal. She pulled gently at his subconscious, steadily growing stronger in desiring impatience. Eragon held firm for a moment, but then realising, he closed his eyes and let her carry him away.

When they opened again he saw the world once more as she did. Only once more. Only one time before had she permitted this level of contact between them. And that was a time long past now.

The sky shone a deep, lustrious blue. The forest canopy an ocean of sea-green below.

She dove down towards the trees, pulling up at the final moment. They both felt exhilaration flooding them, the danger of it all seemingly forgotten. She repeated it several times, diving and pulling up, occasionally flapping as high as the clouds before freefalling again.

And then, Saphira began to pull harder on his mind, and Eragon in return pulled himself closer to her. Each tug of their spiritual chains caused a wave of force to shoot through them.

Eragon felt a final wave of pressure, then came another feeling. It felt as if the walls, the bare differences between him and her were falling away, and their very souls suddenly melded.

He was her and she was him. They thought as one, moved as one.

Two souls entwined.

...Their bond was more powerful than they knew.

But they flew on, as if there was nothing but the past behind them. Over mountains and through clouds, higher than they could imagine, till even the greatest forests were nothing but a river of dots below.

The higher he, she, they... flew, the harder it became. Their wings began to strain, but they only flapped harder and harder, so lost in the moment that the demands of their body seemed insignificant.

_**Flap... Flap... Flap...**_

Higher, higher and higher still. The clouds seemed far away now, and the fliers were covered in a sheen of mist from their passage through them.

Eragon felt an unusual feeling in his chest. Moments later, he felt another as Saphira released her grip on his soul. The bond snapped uncomfortably, wrenching a hole in him. He didn't know why, but he felt strangely desperate to restore it. Still, half-unwillingly, he allowed it to slip away.

His body met him with a rush of cold. Eragon opened his eyes in his own body once again, and they were greeted with sparkles of ice.

Eragon's hands were covered in thin dressings of it, and he could feel a mane of frost growing across his face, and down his hair.

But that was nothing compared to Saphira. She had slivers of ice on her face, with four shards particularly noticeable. They curved above and below her eyes, making their sapphire depths glow with limitless determination... and unsurpassed beauty.

The layers of cold continued down her entire form, accentuating her already sharp spines and creating a small icicle of weight at the end of her tail. Only her wings remained untouched.

Eragon's breath caught, and he struggled to draw breath in the thin air. Saphira felt the strain as well. It was only then he noticed that she, they, were flying almost vertically, as if reaching for the heavens.

Maybe she was...

Her wing beats slowed even more, and before she stopped flapping out of the sheer exhaustion of her strength, their sky blue surroundings peeled away to be replaced with an inky blackness akin to the night.

...But only for a moment. As deprivation took them, they relaxed, and let themselves fall back to earth...

---

---

---

---

---

---

---

---

---

---

---

---

Behind his eyelids, Eragon saw light as gravity returned them to the bright world. He opened them slowly, cringing in small pain but still revelling as the sparkling icicles began to melt.

As his gaze shifted forward, his eyes widened at what he could see before him.

Alagaesia... All of it.

Eragon and Saphira could see from the mountains which hid Farthen Dur to the far reaches of Vroengard, which hung at the bare edge of their vision.

They could see Surda, tucked away in the corner in the corner of the great land. They could see the entire Hadarac desert as one.

And directly below them, the whole of Ellesmera. They rocketed toward it. Saphira, with her wings folded, and Eragon, who pressed himself against her back. They made a streamlined vessel, freefalling out of the sky like a sapphiric gift from the stars.

…Minutes later, they were still falling.

Hills grew into mountains.

Mere puddles became mighty lakes.

Forests separated into individual trees.

After what seemed like an hour, Saphira opened her wings, and the wind caught them once more.

Eragon's eyes were wide, his hair swept backwards by the incredible force of wind. _...That, that… was incredible… _

Saphira smiled weakly. _I didn't do it alone. _

_But I couldn't possibly do it without you. What can I possibly offer in return? Nothing can compare… _

Saphira was silent for a heavy moment as words she wished to speak flew through her mind. _Love, Eragon. The love you have already shown me is more than enough. _

Eragon rubbed the scales around her neck tenderly. _I have more to give yet. _

She sighed softly. _I look forward to it, little one… _

Slowly, Eragon's lips curved into a smile. He smiled of contentment and happiness and other feelings, some of which were so common yet so strange. These he did not understand.

Saphira fanned her wings, slowing her decent as she entered Ellesmera. Sunset poured between the trees, a small sign of the hours they had been, instead of the mere moments it may have seemed.

She hit the smooth bark lightly, and Eragon unstrapped himself and collapsed onto the bed, while Saphira slumped into her dais.

…Saphira yawned.

…_We have to go soon. _Noted Eragon.

She grumbled loudly.

I'll need your help, so don't try to back out of it.

_But I'm tireeeed. _Saphira whined.

Eragon scratched his chin for a moment, feeling slight stubble underneath. _Okay then…_ _If you come, I'll make it worth your while. _

Her eyes were narrow as she looked up to examine him. _How are you going to do that? _

_You'll see. _

Eragon felt a tendril of thought nudge his mind, and it quickly met the wall pre-prepared there.

He smirked at her. She scowled back.

…She got up. _This had better be worth it. _

Eragon cheered in triumph.

---

---

For a moment, Saphira thought all her attempts at cheering up Eragon had come to nothing. But he still smiled, however faint it was.

She and him stood on the banks of a small river, alongside more than 100 elves and one gold scaled dragon, all staring at a single bobbing raft, which was only just anchored to shore. On it, a single limp figure. He was dressed in fine white silks, trimmed with gold thread. A crimson cloth lay beneath him, a hair thin barrier between silk and smooth oak planks.

All that needed to be said, had been said. Flowers had been laid. By those who wished to, or known him better than most. Islanzadi herself had laid two roses, one red and the other white, crossed at his breast.

Some others had paid their condolences to Glaedr. Eragon could sense they were wondering though, why he had not been like most dragons of old, and followed his rider into the grave.

Maybe Glaedr realised their silent question. Maybe he knew the answer. Maybe not. Either way, he did not speak, not a single wisp of thought, during the whole ceremony.

Eragon saw the answer all too clearly.

The voices died down as an elf Eragon did not recognise approached the tethers of the raft, sword drawn, silent intensity emanating from his features. With a quick swing, he severed the rope which had been anchoring the raft. Then, he swiftly reached for the remnants of it, preventing the raft from drifting away… just yet. He sheathed the sword, then, with a flick of his wrist and a whispered word, a ball of amethyst flames appeared in his palm.

As he went to place them on the raft, Eragon moved to his side and stopped his arm. The elf faltered. He turned to Eragon, then with a moment of hesitation, and then understanding, he covered the flames with his fingers to extinguish it and re-entered the crowd without any other sign.

Eragon then walked to Glaedr, who fixated a single golden eye on his approach.

Eragon extended his arm, exposing his naked gedwey ignasia to Glaedr. "Let it be your flame, ebrithil Skulblaka."

The dragon stared at him, peering into his eyes as if to understand what drove him. This lasted for a few seconds, then Glaedr opened his maw and released a small jet of golden flame, which Eragon caught with a near silent incantation.

The colour of the flame contrasted greatly with the silver his palm, and it grew slightly, growing in magnificence as Eragon fed the flames with magic of with own.

All eyes were on him as he reapproached the raft. Eragon knelt before it, and then, with a hand aflame, softly touched his fingers to the wood.

The flame leapt across. With his guidance, it spread in a circle around Oromis, illuminating his robes with golden flickers of light.

And still Eragon's hand burned. He silently marvelled at his control of the flame, at how even as he sat by Saphira to watch the raft burn, not once did he feel its harsh touch.

Slowly, and then quickly, the raft began to drift away. Toward the centre of the lake, where every ripple eventually made its way to.

Dozens of eyes reflected the shimmering light. The flames were growing constantly, fuelled by not just Eragon's and Glaedr's magic, but true fuel. Wood and air and soon enough… the body of an elf.

Truly that would a rare feast for any flame of Alagaesia.

Suddenly, something shimmered in the corner of Eragon's eye. One elf, who openly displayed more youth than any in the ceremony, was whimpering as tears fell from his slanted eyes to the grass below.

It was then Eragon realised that a few, maybe more, of those present had not seen among the elves before. And maybe, not at all. Except for Faolin and Glenwing, whose bodies had never been found, the last death amongst their ever living race would have been at the hands of Galbatorix or the forsworn. Before that, it may have been hundreds of years. Not all had been alive back then. Most, definitely, but not all.

Silently, Eragon walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

The youngling looked up at him. Their gazes met for a moment, then they both looked back to the raft, everything suddenly silent, but it was because not just the elf, but also Eragon, felt a sudden sense of peace.

_...Do you know?_

Glaedr fidgeted, turning to see who had spoken, but none were looking. As the mind touched his once again, he realised quickly who had spoken.

_Do you know? _Eragon asked again.

Glaedr looked back to the crackling flames. _...Yes._

_Just now?_

_I spent the day thinking about it._

_...You shouldn't brood over such things._

_Perhaps you shouldn't be talking to me. _Replied Glaedr defensively.

_Perhaps... But this was the only time I could talk to you when Saphira would not notice, and thus listen._

Glaedr seemed surprised. _Maybe you should block her out of it then. What is so important that you would hide it?_

Eragon laughed across their temporary link. _She spent the whole day helping me to forget about __**this. **__I can't let her know I'm thinking morbidly again. Who knows what she'll do. Besides, I __**can't **__block her out. _Eragon paused for a second. _You may have taught me some things too well. And even if I could, she'd figure it out anyway._

_Hatchlings. _Scoffed Glaedr.

_Mmm._

_You really don't know dragons, do you. _It was more a statement than a question.

...Eragon was suddenly silent.

The dragon raised an eyebrow, even though Eragon couldn't see it.

_For how long had he been pushing you away?_

Glaedr said nothing. And it was several minutes before he spoke again. Even though, Eragon waited patiently. After all, he knew dragons at least this well.

_...A month._

Eragon shook his head sullenly. It was a tiny movement, one that only Glaedr would notice. _A month alone, when your partner is right there, beside you the whole time... I wouldn't have survived it. Let alone..._

_He wanted me to survive._

_Wouldn't you?_

_Alone? No._

_I think you would._

_You don't know dragons! _Snapped Glaedr.

Eragon paused for a moment as Saphira's attention shifted to him... and away again. _I'm not privy to your lore. Maybe if it were different I would understand. The dragons don't necessarily make it easy. I know only as much as Saphira allows._

_Then nothing has changed over time. Things are as they always have been..._

_But not the way they __**should**__ be...? Why do I sense those words?_

_Because you don't know dragons._

Eragon laughed again, as soft and silent as a telepathic laugh can be. _Perhaps, some day, I will._

_I doubt it._

_...I don't think the whole shock has hit you yet. You didn't sleep last night, did you?_

Glaedr grumbled. _You insist on returning to this subject? _

_We never left it. We just touched borders._

_...No, I didn't. I was awake all night, trying to provide him with further life... and ...to try to have him re-establish our link. Even if just for a second. I needed it... and now I shall have it no more._

_It hurt him too. You must realize that._

_And now I shall suffer for all eternity. All because he __**cared. **_Glaedr said the final word as if it was venomous. With that, he also shut off his mind, preventing any further conversation.

Eragon was disappointed, but he knew he had only a few moments left anyway. Saphira was beginning to tire of looking at the flames, and he didn't want to be discovered.

Saphira's presence quickly re-entered his head. _Now?_

Eragon looked at Glaedr momentarily, who was staring forward as if nothing had happened.

_Yeah... now._

Saphira's presence grew, and her power melded with his. He raised his palm, which was still flickering with silent, golden flames and aimed it at the sky. Then, he opened his mouth and whispered a single word.

"Brisingr."

The flame shot into the air, and came to a halt over the bobbing raft. For a few moments, it hung above Oromis's head as a single wisp of smokeless flickers. Then, it split apart, forming ten separate flames.

The crowd watched in silence, and maybe also, awe. With careful concentration, Eragon made the flames spin around the raft, slowly getting higher into the air with each rotation.

The higher the flames went, the bigger they became, and the faster they spun, until it seemed that they were no longer individual flames, but a ring of golden fire swirling in the sky.

As the flames reached above the trees, they grew to level where Eragon could finally feel the drain of his strength. But he held on to the power, letting his energy fuel every spin of the flame. The pressure built against his mind, and Eragon let it spin for a few more seconds before releasing the flames, causing them to fly in separate directions.

Suddenly, the ten flames exploded, filling the sky with huge orbs of fire. All eyes, even Glaedr's were on his display now, and Eragon drew on both his and Saphira's strength as he pulled together all the flame in a spiral vortex, forming a single well of fire, floating high above the trees.

Then as if it were alive, the inferno stirred. Huge amounts of flame died suddenly, but from the remaining, something was born. And with all the power of a living, breathing being, a golden dragon of flame flapped out of the embers.

It flew in a great circle, flapping and pushing against the wind. It opened its maw, and a jet of flame was released, shooting even higher into the sky. Then it stretched its wings, and began to glide.

There were sounds of awe as it flew, slowly twisting towards where they all stood.

However, the closer it got, the smaller it became, as Eragon released the magic bit by little bit. By the time it reached them, it stood at only ten feet, which was tiny in comparison to what it had been. It landed on the raft gently, and flames spread from its feet as it continued to dissolve.

The flame dragon looked at them all, then let out a silent roar, and vanished into ashes.

Suddenly, an elf pointed up to the sky and yelled. "Up there!"

...The sky lit up again as the dragon's flaming breath started to return from its lofty point. It grew bigger and bigger as it fell, quickly shooting past the trees and striking the centre of the lake. For that was where Oromis's raft now floated.

With a tremendous explosion of heat and light a great amount of water vaporised, then what had lain on the lake was reduced to ash, and everything fell silent.

_It is done then. _Saphira said it with such a lack of emotion that it was obvious she was hiding her feelings. Eragon knew that at this moment, she mourned what had been lost. Despite the fact he knew, she still hid it from him, not wishing to share her pain.

Without hesitation, Eragon walked to her and leapt to her back, not saying another word. She turned, and they walked away.

Away from the ceremony. Away from memories. They didn't fly, at least not now.

No, for now the sky belonged to smoke and mist and ash.

---

---

_...Why are we here again?_

Eragon sighed. _I need to get something. I had meant to ask him this morning, but-_

Saphira interrupted him as she stopped in front of Oromis's hut. _Go on then._

He climbed down from her back and approached the wooden house. He held the doorhandle for a moment, and then pushed it open. The door creaked as it swung, giving the impression that the little hut was as old as the person who had lived there. Eragon fumbled for a moment as he found a candle, then whispered a word to light it.

Eragon examined the room for a moment before walking to a corner and retrieving what he had wanted. Fairths, a few of them. Oromis always had plenty, with even more to spare. But even after they were gone, the room seemed unchanged. It looked exactly as he had first seen it, except now, there was no-one to sit at the little table. Not any more.

He cradled a few of the flat slates in his arms, then he almost dropped them as someone suddenly shot into his head.

_What are you doing?_

Eragon waited till his heart stopped racing before sending a message back. _Collecting a few things. I had been meaning to ask._

_I know. He knew too, I think._

Eragon was confused. _What do you mean?_

_He wanted you to have something._

_What?_

_A rider's blade._

Eragon was speechless. _But... but why? I have a sword... and also, this place wasn't-_

_He wanted you to have it. What you do with it is up to you... Oh, and take some fairths too, though I presume you have already._

_...Thank you master._

The dragon growled. _Not any more. I am no more than an unchained dragon now. _

Eragon looked at the sword again, and took a moment to watch the golden sheath reflect to the candle light.

_...This may be the last time we speak Eragon, and for Saphira it is already past. If you do see me again, it may be too late. Take it Eragon. I bear no ties except for what I relinquish to you._

Suddenly, the link between them began to deteriorate. And as if his life had been extinguished, the dragon's mind disappeared from the crowd of souls within Ellesmera. His mind had always felt different to the touch, much grander and deeper than that of the elves, so it felt as if there was suddenly a great void in the air.

_Do you hide you mind Glaedr? Your soul...?_

Eragon waited a moment longer as the emptiness permeated in the air, then he pried the sword from its hanging on the wall and sheathed it. He walked outside and placed it on Saphira's saddle. She seemed confused, but Eragon said he'd explain later.

He then went back and collected the pile of pigmented slabs he'd left behind, and then he left on Saphira's back.

As they began to enter the tree line nearby Oromis's hut, Eragon thought he saw a shadow of a dragon fly overhead. But he did not turn to look nor say anything of it. A moment later it was out of sight, and then a voice rang in his head, sharp and clear.

..._If a time does come that you need me, Naegling will show you the way..._

...Eragon uttered his thanks into the sky, but he didn't know whether Glaedr had heard. Or indeed... if he even cared.

---

---

_So... what is this reward of yours?_

Eragon climbed off her back from after her short flight from the ground to the treehouse ledge.

_You won't even let me sit down first?_

_No._ replied Saphira sharply.

Eragon sighed and dumped the products of their outing on the bed, then tiredly walked into the kitchen. He returned moments later rolling out one of the barrels of faelnirv. In one hand he also held a jug and a large goblet, which was delicately balanced on top.

_This is it?_

_Well, I had another thing planned in case you didn't want any. But I think we'd both enjoy drinking to Oromis's memory. So I decided to give you something __**to **__drink._

_Who said you own them? _Asked Saphira aggressively.

_As the sole occupant of this treehouse that does not want Vrael's and your father's old abode being destroyed by drunken dragons, I will be the one to control the distribution of alcohol. But if you don't want any...?_

_No. I just don't ...like... your methods._

He opened the barrel and filled the jug. _Even if my methods result in giving you the entire barrel?_

She looked at him slyly, and then with a moment of hesitation she turned and lapped up a mouthful of faelnirv. _You might be redeemable..._

Eragon smirked and filled his goblet, then raised it into the air. _To Oromis!_

Saphira paused, then lifted the barrel in her teeth. Carefully, she swung it into the goblet, causing the contents of both to slosh heavily._ To Oromis._

---

---

Eragon wiped the sweat from his forehead and sighed.

He had had to move Saphira after she fell asleep... on the floor, of all places.

_She may be a twenty foot tall dragon, _thought Eragon, _but that was a LOT of faelnirv. Maybe if she hadn't drunk most of it in one go..._

_Oh well. No changing what's been done. She did enjoy it though._

It had taken Eragon to near the limits of his strength to move her with magic, even with the energy he drew from the belt of Beloth before even _attempting _the feat. After all, he had already exhausted himself once today... or was that twice?

So now she lay half sprawled on her cushioned dais, snoring as only a dragon could.

And he, Eragon, could think of it only as _cute_. He prayed to himself that Saphira wouldn't wake to hear him thinking those words. Eragon laughed despite the situation, he couldn't really stop himself, even though she may have woken. As he did, his gaze wandered over to the bed, and the tablets resting on it.

...In his minds eye, he saw an image. It had appeared suddenly, yet it was so clear in his mind that he felt the need to release it before it was lost. He hurriedly picked up a fairth and let the words fly from his mouth as quick as he could summon them.

...Eragon smiled. _Perfect._

He laid it on the bed, deciding that he'd find a place to hang it tomorrow. He then collected the unmarked fairths and tucked them underneath the bed.

**Scrgnnn**

Eragon jumped as Saphira began snoring loudly. Her paws scraped across the corners of the dais, and she repeated the motion again and again, like she was trying to grab something... but failing. Eragon chuckled. _Coming, coming..._

He extinguished the candles, and immediately moonlight flooded the room. He then stripped off the excess clothing until he had nothing left but his tunic and pants, and then entered her dais.

Saphira's paws swept him up almost instantaneously. She instinctively pulled him against her belly, and her wing was suddenly draped over him.

...Eragon couldn't help but be amused how this all happened, and she didn't stop snoring the whole time. A moment later when everything was still her snoring died down, and the treehouse became silent.

Eragon laughed silently, and nuzzled into her belly until he found the place he rested every night. It was a spot that had smaller scales, where her skin bent inwards with ease to from a makeshift pillow. Sure, it was close enough to an armpit, but he always enjoyed it most.

Very soft, after all...

As he lay there, his mind went over the events of the day till he came to a certain moment which played over and over again. He lamented the fact he didn't have a fairth handy, and there wasn't a chance in the world of getting one while he was in Saphira's grasp.

Still, he began to drift off, the memories stuck so firmly in his mind that it would take more than drowsiness to shake it.

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_...Flying..._

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_...With her..._

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_...With him..._

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_...Flying..._

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_...Bonded..._

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_...As one..._

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_...It was cold..._

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_...Saphira... her eyes piercing the dark gloom. She took up his entire vision, and he felt as if nearly blinded by the light that reflected from her._

_Scales sparkling... Frost glittering..._

_...An enchanting beauty._

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_You._

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_Me._

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_...Us..._

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_Eragon and Saphira._

_...For those moments... we were... more... than we were._

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_So much more..._

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_...But..._

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_...why were we?_


	15. Moments in time

Eragon shifted in his sleep, restlessness striking him even now. His mind had been so sensitized by many of his experiences, mostly his training with Oromis, that now found little rest, even when his body slept. It kept track of everything, happening near and far. And he had no control over what it discovered. 

Minds came and minds went, he was always connected to several, sometimes hundreds. It was a wonder why he didn't lose himself amongst them. …But then, something changed. A new mind had entered. One he recognised. One he knew. And as soon as he touched it he felt an unbidden reply as it both came closer, and pulled away...

Eragon turned uncomfortably, and his lips opened between a sudden snore.

"...Arya..." he whispered, and then turned again and was silent once more.

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_The familiar dream... but this time, only Saphira had it._

_Shadows twisted... nothing was new. She had experienced the same dream time upon time before._

_...So... why was it different? Strange to her normal sensations? Everything held a greater understanding now, even as she slept._

_Because... she now knew... she had seen those eyes before._

_...Hadn't she? Had not every one of them presented themselves to her?_

_It was a grim realization, as everything fell into place, and she finally deciphered what it all meant._

_Why?_

_She didn't understand why she was having it. Nor why Eragon was sharing it._

_How could this happen. Was it for a reason? Should she tell him… perhaps, because he was meant to know?_

_...No... This was not something she could say, nor one… that he would understand. The great truth behind it. The grim, empty secret she had hidden so well. A secret hidden amongst dragons for over a millennia. And he would come to reveal it now? Just because of her stray thoughts… and wishes? …Her dreams…?_

_She could never let Eragon know._

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Eragon stirred slightly as a ray of light struck his eyes.

Despite all the comfort of his position against Saphira's soft belly, with her wings and legs wrapped carefully around him, he had not slept well. He had not dreamt, but been tormented by images in the night, only ending when something strong enough pierced his subconscious did he manage to clean the images away.

Not that she had meant to. It had been her presence that had been enough, enough to break the never-ending cycle of nightmares out of the mere shock of her suddenly being there.

Yes, Eragon knew all about what had entered Ellesmera last night.

He fidgeted, and quickly remembered that he couldn't move. Saphira held him protectively in her sleep, holding him in such a way that only his arms were movable.

It was definitely comfortable, but Eragon needed to move. Deciding not to fight against the she-dragon's strength, he leant back and absent-mindedly began stroking the inside of her wing, patiently waiting for her mind and soul to snap into life.

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_...I'm not feeling to well..._

Eragon couldn't help but chuckle at that. The first thing she says after a night of drinking, and it's '_I'm not feeling well._' He had to resist the urge to say 'what did you expect, especially after drinking the **ENTIRE BARREL**.'

She may have heard it in his thoughts anyway, though probably not. He could feel an abstract fuzziness in her mind, along with throbbing pain in her head.

_It's not as bad as it would have been._

_How do you figure that? _asked Saphira grumpily.

_Well... if I had left you on the floor where you passed out-_

_I did not! _Interrupted Saphira.

_...You did, I remember it vividly. I was the one who MOVED you._

She winced in pain as another wave throbbed in her head, but seemed taken aback. _That would have been hard, even for you._

Eragon shrugged and entered the bathroom. Moments later he returned, the short stubble on his face gone.

_Urgh, I thought you enchanted them to prevent __**this**_Saphira added the last word with venom as another wave of pain shot through her head.

_I thought I had. I did my best though, and it certainly isn't as bad as it could be._

_I have trouble imagining that._ She replied morbidly. But however bad she was feeling, Saphira couldn't help but feel grateful for that fact.

Eragon observed her for a moment before asking, "_Anything I can do?"_

She let out a low growl. _My tongue is dry, my eyes are blurry, my head hurts, my muscles sting and to top it all off, I feel dirty as if I'd just swum through a mud pit. _...She pulled up her head momentarily and let it down with a pained whine. _I didn't... did I?_

He laughed. _No, but there is something I can do for you though._

Saphira opened her eyes painfully. _Eragon... you can go. We can both sense it. _Her attention on him again, she read his mind with the ease of one that didn't even need to try. _I know you want to... _She added, almost silently.

A fractured moment later, she was broken out of her stupor by a familiar hand caressing her face. The movement was slow and fluid, and unconsciously she arched slightly to enjoy the feeling. _Don't you remember? I swore it, you come first, you always will._

He pulled away slowly, and darted away for a moment to the bathroom, returning with a bucket off cool water. _Here, you'll need a drink._

Saphira opened her mouth, and Eragon poured some in. He waited a moment for her to swallow, then added some more. They repeated the process until the bucket was empty, and Eragon left for a second and returned with _hot _water, and a sponge.

Despite some minor protests of being spongebathed the dragon quickly let go of her pride in favour of her predicament. The heat helped greatly, relaxing her cramped muscles and cleansed her of the feeling of dirtiness. Eragon cleaned everything with delicate care, beginning on her back. He sat where the saddle would have been as he gently scrubbed everything in reach. He then progressed to her lower back, and the outer sides of her legs.

Cleaning Saphira's wings elicited a noticeable reaction from her. When he began touching the soft membrane she crooned her neck in enjoyment and began humming, however lightly she was. He was nearly amazed she could at the moment, feeling a sick as she did, but he enjoyed it. Listening to her song encouraged a kind of fervour within him, and he continued his ministrations with a strange sense of peace, and a smile.

For her tail he worked slowly. Her tail contained many sensitive nerves that were easily triggered should he be careless. So every movement had a moment of deliberation behind it before carried through.

_Roll over._

She tiredly turned on to her side, exposing her sky-blue chest. Now, Eragon acted even slower than before. The underside of dragons' bodies are riddled with sensitive spots and active nerve ends. Some caused pain when touched. Others, comfort... and an almost drugged feeling of relaxation. And further still, and most _unnerving_ of all the spots he had to clean, ...pleasure.

It was exactly this …knowledge… which caused a degree of nervousness within him as he passed the sponge over the aqua scales. He had promised, after all. Besides, he would have sacrificed his happiness for her sake anyway, even if he had foreseen where his actions would lead him. But try as he might, his hand shook almost constantly, out of nervousness and self-consciousness and perhaps fear of the possible results. Eragon knew that almost immediately upon beginning the massage in the said areas, that he had failed not once, but multiple times. Eragon cringed. There was no hiding the tiny gasps that were released as his hand shook at vital moments. Nor did he bear the ability to prevent every sound echoing from within his head.

Deciding that trying to speed up the process would likely make it worse, he pressed on diligently, secretly hoping that concentration would stop the shaking. As Eragon finished he requested she roll over again. From there, he quickly massaged the few muscles that still caused her discomfort.

By this point she was well and truly asleep, so he chose to forgo his intention of working on the only thing he hadn't gotten to. Her smooth-scaled face. He would much prefer to leave and get these thoughts out of his head.

With another pang of thought as one particular, recent memory replayed **again, **he hurriedly collected his needed possessions and left. Here was where embarrassment struck him again and again, because he couldn't remove the fleeting memory that in the final moment of his ministrations her gasps had become something… deeper.

But that was not all.

He had felt it. The feelings, the touches, all of it, as much as she had. However much he doubted it would a problem, considering the miniscule dragon population, he didn't doubt that it would work both ways.

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Saphira was silent… sleeping. But inside, her dreams kept her mind wide awake, even if just for a moment.

…_Maybe I had been wrong._

_Who knows… some day…_

_I might be able to tell him._

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Eragon was… without a doubt… more embarrassed than he had ever been in his life. Worse than the time he had slid on winter ice and fallen into a warm, fresh pile of…excretement… face first. Worse than when he had first learnt how to use a bow, and while training with practice arrows, had shot Garrow in the rear. Yep, this was definitely worse.

The fact that… he had made Saphira…

His cheeks were mottled red as he desperately tried to close his mind, lest a passer by _see _what had just occurred. He just couldn't concentrate enough, not while remembering…

How does a person explain it? It was like a guy who had a female for a best friend. One day he slips… and accidentally touches her in a certain place. It's an accident, sure, but the whole thing is about as embarrassing as it gets.

That was why Eragon was running across the grassy floor of Ellesmera while at the same time trying to form a barrier within his head. Because as embarrassed as he was already, it would instantly multiply if someone found out.

Luckily for him, no-one paid any notice to the rider's unusual behaviour, and by the time he reached the training grounds, he had a wall of iron around his thoughts.

Vanir was performing the rigmar, the dance of the snake and crane, when he arrived. Eragon, only now realising it was still very early morning, joined him. Despite the fact that they were consistently twisting into awkward positions whilst stretching their muscles, Vanir still found a moment to raise an eyebrow at Eragon from beneath his hanging banges. Basically, it meant that he had noticed that Eragon's mind was shut off, or that Saphira wasn't present. …Or both. He didn't know which it was, but out of worry that his elven competitor might link the two, he redoubled his efforts in taming his wayward thoughts. Though, his lack of physical concentration caused him to make mistakes while attempting to keep up the inhumanly flexible elf.

Once he was sure his imagination was under control, he released the barrier and instead reached out. He found Arya with a moment's glance, and then returned his attention to here and now. Vanir was finishing, and a few other elves were approaching, pre-readied for the morning match.

Without Saphira here, Eragon knew he would need all the concentration he could muster. Her additional input was sorely missed when gone.

"Celebrate his memory well last night?" Vanir's tone was teasing, spoken with a hint of laughter, but there was a twinkle in his eye that implied that he knew more than he let on. "Your dragon seems to have drunken too much."

Eragon half-smirked. "On the try, _sharp._" He replied sarcastically.

A smile graced the elf's lips as he drew his sword, and Eragon soundlessly unsheathed Kroxis in reply.

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Droplets of sweat hit the ground while at the same moment, two swords clashed in a miraculous shower of sparks.

"No Saphira to help you today!" yelled Vanir between strikes.

Eragon ducked a swing and parried another, then struck back with a rapid series of blows.

The elf parried all, and then stabbed. When Eragon dodged it he quickly retracted and switched his balance to swing overhead for a heavy attack.

Eragon sidestepped it easily. Out of the corner of his vision he saw his other opponents, all bearing looks of defeat. Well, he couldn't see the face of one, as the elf had his back to him, and was trying to remove his sword from a tree without shattering the wood.

Vanir jumped as his Shur'tugal opponent swung low, then parried twice, all the time trying to find an opening.

The elf was being pushed back.

Very noticeably, Eragon had stepped his effort up a notch, and his strikes were getting faster every moment.

With a sudden burst of strength, he swung Kroxis upwards with full force. Vanir's blade was knocked toward the sky, but the elf just managed to hold on. Eragon shot through his guard, swinging the dragon blade towards Vanir's ribs for the finishing blow.

**CLANG.**

Eragon hesitated suddenly as a new combatant entered the arena, their sword blocking his. The rider recovered quickly and leapt back. The new fighter however, seemed all too ready for this and charged him with lightning speed.

The moment their blades met Eragon caught a flash of dark hair, and he immediately realised who he was fighting. Arya grinned as she pressed against his strength, then in a single fluid motion, slid her sword out of the weapon lock and stabbed toward him.

He parried it and grinned, beginning a rapid counterattack.

With every bit of his skill unleashed, he forced her back his ease. But as soon as he began gaining ground, Vanir regained his senses and re-entered the melee.

Arya charged again, and Eragon looked on in surprise as she turned her malevolent attention to his other opponent. Vanir realised in just in enough time to block. "What are you doing?" breathed the elf. "We need to work together!"

The she-elf only grinned as she continued to ignore Eragon. Both elves struck and counter-struck. Swings, stabs, blocks, parries, dodges and even the occasional fancy or unusual move, all were used in an attempt to gain dominance. But to their dismay, they were perfectly matched.

Eragon whistled shrilly.

Both elves turned to look, and found him lying on the ground, feigning sleep.

The taunt was ruthlessly successful. Immediately both forgot their rivalry and charged him. Eragon was up in a split second, and he grinned with excitement as he met their swords with his.

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"So tell me, what was the point of working together?" asked Arya indignantly.

"To make a less pitiful attempt against him." complained Vanir. "We're already lucky he's off his game this morning."

Arya raised one of her slanted eyebrows.

"No dragon today." The elf grumbled, flicking his finger to the bare patch of ground where Saphira usually lay each morning. Though for all the annoyance Vanir tried to show, a smirk betrayed his true feelings.

Meanwhile, Eragon rested against a tree. Kroxis swung gently by his side, its sheath so daintily connected to the gem studded belt which hung even more daintily from his thin waist.

Soon enough, this resting was disrupted by Arya, who half dragged him away from the training ground, claiming she had had enough of 'that person' (meaning Vanir) for the morning… and the afternoon… and many days to come.

Needless to say, Eragon found the while thing amusing. He quickly asked her to let him go so he could actually walk instead of being dragged.

She almost blushed as she released her grip on his arm.

"So… Your training is going well then?"

Eragon raised his head and nodded, he had waited several minutes for her to finally speak up. "I think it helps that I enjoy the competition."

"Even though you always win?" Inquired Arya.

"That doesn't mean it's easy. Nor does it mean that they don't try to win, and also try to outdo each other. I'm not the only one learning."

She was silent for a moment. "…That was an impressive display last night."

"What? Oh. I guess it was."

"I wasn't to arrive until this morning, but I ran when I saw it." She frowned. "I thought Ellesmera was somehow under attack. But all it turned out to be was some rider showing off."

Eragon smirked slightly. "I would have hoped to be more than just _some rider _to you."

"…You aren't…" She was quiet again as they continued walking, and Eragon waited for several minutes before she spoke again. "…After I felt your touch last night, I thought you would have found me sooner."

Eragon chuckled. "I was wondering when you would get to that. I knew you wouldn't want me to abandon my training for you. Besides… I was hoping you would find me." For a moment he said nothing more, but then, under his breath, he added, _"that you would want to find me…"_

"I thought you would be thinking more of Oromis."

Eragon suddenly stopped. _Oromis? What about Oromis? …Oh… _It was then he realised just how effective the she-dragon had been in distracting him. So effective, it seemed, that he had completely forgotten the events of yesterday that included the silver-haired elf.

Still, he was thankful. His lapse had assisted in getting over the death, and had allowed his mind peace.

Arya looked at him weirdly. "Why are you smiling?"

"No reason."

She looked at him even weirder. Eragon, seeing it out of the corner of his eye, began to laugh.

The elf shook her head disbelievingly, and continued to do so for several moments, howbeit slower that it became.

Neither said anything more as they continued on to Tialdari hall, and Eragon soon broke of to smell the flowers. Absentmindedly, he wondered if Saphira could smell them too. But he quickly discarded that thought, he could sense her from the corner of his mind, sleeping.

His hand wandered across the beds of life and colour. Every type of flower had a texture of its own. …But it was the hand that touched him, that gave a meaning rather than a twinge of life.

Arya touched the back of his neck gingerly, softly, as though he might disappear at any moment. Eragon's heart gave an almighty wrench, but he found himself leaning to savour the feeling.

_Why?_

The she-elf was waiting. Her hand stroked upwards, into his length of hair. For a moment, Eragon felt embarrassed that he hadn't cut it in so long, seeing as it hung past his shoulders. Right now, it drooped to one side, tickling his face with its many ends. But the elf did not seem to mind, and her fingers continued their exploration, until they met with his face in an intimate caress.

_What are you doing?_

Eragon couldn't remember when he suddenly stood, and saw her so close. Her breaths came slowly, and a wisp of breath ruffling both of their banges. Eragon's chest was tightening, he couldn't breathe.

_...are you…?_

She was too close. Her breaths were steaming, he could feel mountains of heat rising through his body. He opened his mouth to say something, but she just put a sole finger to his lips, and then delicately slid it away.

"_Shh…"_

Painfully, torturously slowly, Arya closed the gap.


	16. Dark days

With a wry smile, the elf gave him one more peck at his lips before turning and walking to her room. As she did, Eragon could not help but notice that she was flicking her hips from side to side as she walked, teasing him and flaunting the curves of her body simultaneously.

Smirking toothily, Eragon eyed her vivacious figure just once more before walking away too.

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Never before had Ellesmera seemed so beautiful. The sun was shining and flowers abloom. Every speck of life seemed to radiate its own little glow. Even the dark shadows of rabbit burrows seemed blissfully illuminated.

But such facts didn't make it far in his mind. Never mind the fact that his lips were sore from a sudden uprising in their use and touch, never mind that his arms were cramped from holding her for so long. No, he didn't need beauty, he had thoughts and feelings still tingling on his skin, and he didn't need a peaceful forest to be happy. He was already.

Though one thing played against the grain of his thoughts. Saphira's absence pained him. He tried imagining how she would react when he told her of today's events, but thoughts of Arya kept getting in the way.

_She's such a distraction. _Thought Eragon, grinning. _I think I know what she meant now. But if she's chosen this, it must be all right._

...He sighed slightly. _But what do I do next?_

_Should I wait, and visit her tomorrow?_

He stepped lightly over a tree trunk, rubbing his finger and thumb across the matted bark. _Should I bring her a gift? ...Flowers?_

Eragon's mind continued to wander, soon reaching the pristine moment. The kiss. And then, suddenly, his mind was gripped with a terrifying possibility.

_What if she had wanted me to follow her?_

The image of her body swaying with each footfall was highlighted in his mind.

_What if now she thinks I'm not interested?_

All of a sudden he turned around and began to run in the opposite direction. Of course, he tripped in his haste, and his was rapidly brought down to ground level.

_Flowers!_

Standing as fast as possible, he tore a bouquet of flowers from the ground and began running.

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...Several metres to the side, Vanir looked on with a strange emotion etched into his face. A smile, ...but at the same time, a frown. Shrugging nonchalantly, the elf turned on his heel with a considerable amount of grace and began walking towards the location of a house. One placed, however unconveniently for some, high amongst the trees.

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Eragon skidded to a stop at the door, taking a moment to compose himself before knocking. He waited for several moments, and when she didn't answer his head drooped slightly as he pushed it open anyway.

He put the flowers into the previously empty vase on the table and momentarily stood back to admire it.

...Then, suddenly, a pair of hands slipped over his eyes.

Eragon smiled. Slowly, he reached up and pulled the hands away, then wrapped her arms around himself.

Her breath trickled down his back, and Arya placed a several smooth kisses on his neck before laying her head beside his shoulder. His smile widened, and he pivoted in her arms to meet her, wanting her closeness. No sooner had he that Arya pulled him in and Eragon found his lips pressed against hers.

Hey, talk is cheap.

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Vanir spent quite a bit of time wandering before he finally approached the treehouse. By then it was well past noon and he was fairly confident the she-dragon would be mostly recovered by now, and not loathe against company, even if it had been a night of heavy drinking.

After he trudged up the stairs (made for an elf they may be, but he still didn't like them), he brushed his clothes down into a more presentable form and knocked on the trapdoor that led to Eragon and Saphira's abode.

...Vanir waited several minutes, and knocked twice more, whilst silently wishing he had a way to get to the higher levels where he had a better chance of being heard. But unfortunately, there was not even the shuffling of limbs to indicate waking.

The elf frowned. She should have been awake by now, at least! And he was sure he hadn't seen her leave. It is hard to miss a dragon after all.

Or at least he was fairly sure, even as he glanced at the silent and unwavering trees. He looked back to the door... paused... then gingerly reached out with his mind.

_...So, she **was **sleeping. Strange though..._

His gaze wandered slightly, then flicked back to the door. _I'll need an excuse to wake her, but what?..._

_Their food is being delivered in a few hours. _Thought Vanir. _So if she isn't up by then... _His mind was silent for a moment, but then it added,_ then she must have drunk a lot last night._

Laying his sheathed blade against the bark covered wall of the overhand, the elf decided to do some afternoon rigmar exercises.

_Heh, and he wonders why I'm more flexible than him. _He thought dryly. _I really ought to use that to my advantage._

However, he remained in thought for too long, which resulted in him losing his balance and tripping into the wall.

"**Ack! **...ouchies."

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Eragon fidgeted. He must have dozed off. Arya had fallen asleep as well, but showed no signs of waking. How they ended up on her bed he couldn't quite recall. But he knew that somewhere along the line, he'd done something right. Because, from what he could tell, she was enjoying the closeness between them, especially the kisses, more than he expected. It was almost as if she was trying to make up for lost time.

Currently, he was lying on his back against the warmed silk sheets, feeling her body pressed against the left side of his.

He could feel her soft weight on him, her head resting just below his neck, giving the momentary idea that she wasn't as tall as him, instead of her lying further down the bed.

_Cold._

Arya's hand, drawn to his warmth, was underneath his tunic, her long digits slightly wrapped around his thin waist.

_Cold. _Eragon carefully removed the icy cold palm and placed it over clothing instead of skin. But this only caused the sleeping elf to move closer to him, exposing him to more of her coldness.

Eragon sighed. Reigning himself to being uncomfortable, he buried his face in her dark hair and slowly found sleep.

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Late, late, **LATE!**

Vanir crossed his legs uncomfortably, then quickly switched them to the other side, and folding them tightly.

_Where are they?_

His eyes caught the sunset, coming down slowly over the trees.

He sighed, and looked up.

Overhead, dark clouds were gathering across the sky, threatening to spill out into a storm.

_Ohhh... don't you dare._

**Drip.**

Vanir cringed.

**Drip... drip... drip.**

His face contorted painfully, and his whole body clenched against his unstable anatomy.

_Where. Is. A. Bucket. When. You. Need. One!_

The downpour came, hitting matted bark and sounding like a thousand patters against a drum.

"Argh!" Vanir leapt up and began sprinting down the wet steps while at the same time trying to maintain his balance. Though, with twenty steps left, he tripped, but managed to catch himself just in time to not hit his face on the handrail. Quickly righting himself, he continued his rush down the stairs, and with five left, he leapt the distance to land on the wet grass.

...Unfortunately, he forgot that wet grass is very, very slippery. And so, it shouldn't have been surprising when he slipped-

"Woah!"

-and ended up in a slow motion backflip-

**Thump.**

Which landed him flat on his stomach in a very undignified mess.

"...Ouchies."

Another wave of pressure suddenly arose, and Vanir was back to his feet in a split-second, doing a half sprint, half leg locked bunny hop into the trees.

Three elves paused in the rain borne activities to look at him dart by, their faces holding very confused expressions.

"... ..."

"... ..."

"... ..."

"Ivegottopee Ivegottopee **I've Got To Pee!"**

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Thunder struck and rain poured, but neither had a hope of covering the loud groan of relief that echoed through the trees.

The three elves sprouted identical looks of horror, and began edging away from the trees.

...Vanir walked back into the clearing.

"...Huh?... Where'd they go all of a sudden?"

Choosing to ignore it, he nearly pranced off back to the treehouse, feeling like a happy lil' elf. Though, that is to say he _was_, but then he saw another elf walking down the stairs he had tripped on, using an empty basket to shield himself from the rain.

---

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Vanir was a lot of things.

A swordsman, skilled magician, and a none to subtle psychologist. Certainly, he had no shortage of talents, practical or not. Though for all he could do, there were only a few things he prided himself upon. One of those was his patience.

He had the patience to wait on Eragon's evolving attitude when he was new to Ellesmera, and not force the changes needed just because it was quicker.

He had the patience to not moon after the woman he cared for, just because she hadn't truly looked at him yet.

He even had the patience to wait for an extremely late food delivery until his bladder was about to burst. Some would call that stubborn, but in his mind, he was a very patient person. So, muttering curses under his breath, and dire threats that the delivery had better be on time tomorrow, he returned to his spot by the ladder, underneath the trap door. Whether it was Eragon or Saphira that broke the barrier first, or that he would indeed wait until the morning food, he would be there to meet them.

After all, he'd lived for 90 years. He'd waited on a new rider for almost 80 of them. And with luck, he'd live for 9000 years more. What would it matter to wait a single day?

What would it matter...

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**Crack!**

Eragon snapped awake, heart racing to the sound of thunder.

"Go back to sleep." Arya mumbled as she pulled him closer to herself.

Despite her still cold touch, Eragon flushed with heat as her breasts were pressed up against him, also pinning the hand he had subconsciously raised to warm himself.

For a moment, his body was struck with several waves of hot and cold, and quickly he removed the hand from its trapped position and placed his arm over her back, ignoring the contented smile that suddenly appeared on her sharp angled face.

_"Don't...-" _Eragon sweated. It was an accident, he'd just have to be careful next time.

_"-...stop." _There was a very pregnant pause. _"Not yet..."_

Eragon's eyes boggled, and he blushed crimson again. He wondered for a moment if she was asleep, and if so, what she was dreaming of that could bring about such provocative sleep talking.

_"Arya?" _Eragon whispered. _"Are you awake?" _

_"Why'd you stop...?"_

_"...I'm not ready... for this." _He whispered softly in reply.

Her hands grasped his, drawing them close to where she wanted them. _"Not now? Not now that I have you in my arms? It's been too long, my love."_

Eragon was silenced, frozen. Wondering again if she truly was awake.

Slowly, his hands were released. _"Sleep. If you don't want to, now. In the morning..." _Her sleepy whispers lingered after her silence. "_But sleep now."_

Eragon suddenly lost feeling in his body, and he watched for a moment as Arya snuggled against him again. He didn't feel her do it, so he could only see.

_In the morning... _He thought, and willed himself against the cold to sleep.

---

---

_He didn't return last night._ Thought Vanir sadly. _Did he even bother to check on her? Surely he would have, but then..._

A glimmer of light slithered over his eyes as the sun struck morning dew.

_Is it that much that you have forgotten?_

The elf sighed. _I acted to late. To late to have a chance to change things. _His head swivelled back to the trapdoor, as if he could see through it and stare at the dragon within. _Too late for you... and for me._

---

---

Eragon woke silently, the cold skinned elf in his arms an instant reminder of the night before.

He shuddered.

Something was wrong. He couldn't explain it, but something about this, now, this very morning and the elf he held close to his heart.

There was something wrong, and it scared him.

_"Mmmph, morning love." _she whispered tiredly.

He shuddered again, pulling away from her so she couldn't feel his shaking.

Somehow, she still noticed. "What's wrong love?"

He shuddered violently this time. "I... I don't know. It's like... I don't know..."

Arya sat up, pulling him into an embrace. As her face slid past his to hug him, Eragon saw a flicker of guilt on her chiselled features.

"What was that?"

She pulled back to look at him. "What was what?"

Eragon stared into her green eyes. He held her stare for a long moment, and then all of a sudden, she looked away.

"That Arya. What was _that?_"

"Nothing of concern. It is just something... personal."

The rider shuddered deeply. "Don't lie to me. I know now, that what I'm feeling has to do with you!" He switched to the ancient language half way through his sentence. "Tell me the truth Arya! I need to know!"

She couldn't meet his gaze.

Almost unconsciously, he dug into the stream of magic as he spoke his next words. "I cannot be with you if you will not speak truthfully." He said slowly, each word dripping with power. "What is it you hide from me?"

Her gaze shook as she met his finally. Fear etched into her face. "...They... say that an elf... can not lie with another without love. The magic that flows within their veins... chills them."

Eragon shuddered again. "But is it you... or me? I know what I feel. How do you feel for me, Arya?"

"Eragon..." He noted the sudden drop of the suffix she had adopted. She was dragged forward by the magic which had bound her, and strangely, Eragon felt no pity as the truth was dragged from her tongue. "What I feel for you... or not... Who I love..."

He knew now. She didn't need to finish. "It isn't me. You never loved me." Eragon shuddered, tears threatening to pool in his eyes. "You only saw me as... a replacement."

Arya snapped. "No! You don't understand! ...Oh Faolin. Why am I cursed to suffer your death over and over!" Her voice cracked, and she reached under her bed and then flung something at Eragon.

For a moment, Eragon thought he was looking at a mirror. But once he realised it was static, and unmoving, he realised it was a fairth. Set back against a moonlit night, he thought it depicted him. But on closer examination, he realised it wasn't. The elf in the picture, for it was a true elf, not a halfling on human changed by a rider's bond, was barely distinguishable from himself. His own jaw was stronger, and his brow thicker, but that was it. His eyes were the same, in colour and shape. His hair, the very way it had hung since the long time ago in Aegati Blodhren was the same. It was even the same length, at their shoulders, ever since he had let it go. The angles of his face, of which Eragon had finally realised the difference in amongst elves, some short time ago, were identical. The person he saw within the fairth could have been his twin, the slight discrepancies between them a product of a different path in life.

He understood now. Arya didn't even see him, when she looked at his face. She saw someone else. And that made it hurt all the more.

"Why am I cursed to see him, every time I look at you? Why do the dragons curse me, haunting me with my past? I can't stand it Eragon!"

He didn't look at her as she spoke. He couldn't bear to see her face anymore.

A dry sob broke through her voice. "We were planning to have a child Eragon. A child... I thought that maybe, I might have that chance with you, and have a child that was his. It hurt so much when I saw you after your change. When I first saw you, I thought that maybe, somehow, Faolin had survived and returned to me. You confessed your love again, and that time, it was nearly impossible to push you away."

Eragon closed his eyes and shuddered. Tears squeezed through his closed lids and fell to the floor.

"But now I see differently. I see that no matter if I try to fool myself, you aren't him. You aren't the man I love. And I can't bear to see his face, alive and worn by someone who can't control themselves before me. I don't want to live with it. I don't have to live with it. **I don't want to see your face again!"**

Arya chocked and sobbed into the silk sheets of the bed. Between her hot tears, she managed to look up for just a moment.

Eragon was gone.

---

---

Eragon ran, that was all he could think to do. Just run in the overcast morning sun. For the tears clouding his eyes, he could barely see where he was going. But he didn't care. He still ran, wanting to run until he could vanish from Ellesmera's depths and fade into oblivion.

Run.

Run.

In his blind rush, he tripped over a root that spurred high out of the ground, and fell into a darkened glade of trees. His face landed in the stream that passed through it, and he was overcome with a sense of dread.

_Not here... anywhere but here._

Somehow... he had ended up in the same place, the same stream lined glade, that he had first had his heart broken.

His heart pained, beating weakly and yet hurting all the more. He wondered, as his head remained within the water, whether the stream would just pick him up and carry him into the darkness.

...Like Glaedr had said, wishes are always in vain.

His head lolled, and a rush of water turned him onto his back, revealing his face to the cold embrace of the wind, rushing away the blood and hiding his pain. The cold paled his skin, and the wind and water hid his tears.

The illusion would have been complete, if not for the hollow, empty look in his eyes.

---

---

Vanir felt darkness well inside him as he collected the bowl of fruits from the elf delivering them. He felt it too. Like Eragon, he could feel a shadowed change in the air. He knew he was more sensitive than most to it, an unknown factor in his life, but still, he almost wondered why the elf in front of him didn't shudder as he did.

"Be careful finariel, do not catch a chill."

Vanir nodded silently, gravely.

The elf turned and walked away, and Vanir began ascending the steps toward Eragon and Saphira's abode, the refired clay bowl held only loosely in his hands. As he reached the top, he balanced it more carefully as he climbed the ladder, pushing the trapdoor open with his head. Hearing the quieted sounds, he was genuinely surprised to realise the dragon was still asleep.

Several derogative terms flooded his head as he opened his mouth, and it took all his will to just speak politely as he rounded the corner to the bedroom. "Good morning Brightscales, I'm s-"

...The bowl cracked on the floor, and Vanir darted through the trapdoor a second later.

He needed to find Eragon, and he needed to find him now.

---

---

Vanir ran as fast as he could, opening his mind at the same time to scour Ellesmera for the whereabouts of the young Rider. His mind flooded the consciousness of several before they had the chance to react, but he was gone as soon as they began mustering defences.

None of them had seem him.

Tentatively, he reached out to Tialdari hall, weighing the decision of invading the minds of the royal family against his current need.

His need won out, and he purged the minds of the area, wincing at the repercussions involved in invading the privacy of all these unsuspecting elves.

Shortly enough, he found what he was looking for, or rather who, though her mind was so awash it was nearly invisible to him. In her current state, she could neither realise his presence nor give him an answer, and he began to fear for Eragon.

...The fears were confirmed as he finally found him, his thoughts astray and his will shattered. Vanir released a silent tear as he instantly turned toward a place deeper into the forest, where a shur'tugal lay, weeping, alone and broken.

---

---

Eragon could barely feel it as hands grasped him, dragging him from the stream. He released of cold breath as a figure shook him, and he slowly turned to him.

"-I know it hurts, but you have to get up!"

"...W-what it Vanir?"

Before his eyes, the elf seemed to pale. His eyes were wide and his expression pleading, so much so that Eragon willed himself back to the world.

"Saphira! She... I'm not sure. You have to come!"

Again, darkness gripped Eragon, and Vanir suddenly shuddered in akin.

Drawing on whatever strength he had left, Eragon stood, ignoring the still weak beat of his heart. His body fought him, but he gathered his thoughts and empowered himself forward.

He could at least do that, for his dragon.

"Where is she?"

"We can't go there, first, we must know something."

Eragon looked at him as though he was mad.

"When did she last eat?"

"Err... well... apart from faelnirv, it was a few days ago."

Vanir gripped his shoulders.

"Show me where!"

Slowly, Eragon turned and began to run.

Vanir nearly shot past Eragon in his speed. "This is important Eragon! She may die if we aren't quick!"

All blood drained from the rider's face, and he shot forward to match the elf, and then he got even faster.

For a moment as he ran ahead of Vanir, the elf saw a flicker of change within the rider, held for a single moment as he sped faster and faster through the trees.

---

---

Eragon skidded into the clearing, with Vanir only a moment behind. Even though it was late morning, it seemed almost night. Only tiny amounts of light were able to pierce the thick cover provided by the trees. Eragon could tell, without remembering, that there was once a bed of soft moss and mushrooms here, but it had been torn up by claws and hard scales. There was the impression of a dragon on the ground, and just in front of it, another impression of something much smaller. But that was barely noticeable, for the ring of blackness and death which covered it.

Vanir groaned as he leant in to the centre of the ring and picked up a single tiny mushroom. A long gash ran down its side, and it was from it that blackened blood had spilled, killing all it touched.

"It's just as I feared. ...It wouldn't have mattered if she had just touched it, but if she swallowed any of its blood..." He turned to Eragon and held up the shadowed mushroom. "Do you know what this is argetlam?"

Eragon paled. He did know. A black mushroom, streaked with lightning blue flesh.

Death cap. Deemed to instantly kill any who are poisoned by it. The stalk provided the poison, yet, the cap is an antidote is an almost perfect antidote.

Vanir wasted no time in tearing off the top of the mushroom, and beginning to run. Eragon was following a second later.

"Maybe she swallowed some of the antidote as well, or perhaps it can't kill her instantly, because she is a dragon. But either way..." Vanir stopped talking for a moment as he ducked a branch and slid down a long precipice. "...She won't survive much longer if we don't help!"

Eragon ran faster, catching up to him again. "Give it to me! I can get there faster!"

Vanir nodded slightly and passed the remains of the mushroom to Eragon, who immediately shot forward, running faster than Vanir would have thought possible for an elf.

_But not for something else._

---

---

He ran so fast that he did not seem to move, but instead the world around him rushed past. He was barely aware of reaching the steps of the treehouse, for they too blurred so quickly beneath him it didn't seem like steps at all.

The trapdoor burst open before he even arrived at it, forced by magic Eragon didn't even know he had cast. He leapt upwards through the hole, ignoring the ladder completely. The moment his feet touched the floor he ran again, shooting around the corner to the bedroom.

...Eragon let out a strangled cry. Saphira lay before him, sweat covering her body in a thick sheen, and the normally vivid blue coloration of her scales tinged with a swampy green. Her body was rigid, and shook constantly as though freezing.

Remembering what was in his hand, he darted to her side and pried her mouth open. Unconsciously, she resisted him, and he was forced to use all his might to force it wide enough to force the mushroom into it, cutting himself in several places on her sharp teeth.

For a moment, nothing happened, but then the muscles in her neck twinged and she swallowed it. Her shaking increased for a moment, but nothing else changed.

Then suddenly, her entire body shook violently. Every muscle clenched then forced outwards again, and her tail whipped around, cutting his cheek and arms with the barbs, and knocking him several feet away.

"SAPHIRA!"

She continued to fit, and the room trembled as her tail struck them. Eragon's bed was ripped to shreds in an instant, the membrane that covered the door was torn in two, and deep gouges were torn in the smooth bark walls.

Eragon got up, trying to get closer, but her tail only whipped around again and flung him into the wall. He cried out in pain as he heard something snap, and his legs gave way beneath him. But he ignored the pain, and began to slowly crawl towards Saphira.

Her body suddenly cramped, and she her muscles pulled inwards again, curling her into a ball. Then, she jerked outwards again, and her head shot forward. Her mouth opened wide and her muscles twitched, and then she began vomiting on the floor.

Eragon lifted his head to see. Her stomach emptied quickly, and a steady stream of chucks of black and dark liquid spilled into the wood. There were a few bones amongst the garbage, and a barely digested head of a deer, its skull split wide with all visible. She heaved one final time, and a lump of lightning blue flesh was expelled onto the floor.

Her body shook slightly, and then slumped onto the floor as every muscle went limp.

Saphira moved no more.


	17. Sickness and secrets

Eragon could not imagine ever feeling worse than what he had felt then. Not knowing whether Saphira was alive or dead, or even if she had somehow survived the spasm, how long it would last. He too was broken, crawling forward on the floor, half expecting for his soul to be suddenly be torn apart as the connection between them exploded into a million tiny pieces, him dying too as life left her. 

...But he didn't. The link, the chains that held them together held strong, even as the part of her held in his mind faded, becoming as wispy and insubstantial as the breaths of the dragoness herself.

However barely, she was still alive.

Eragon whimpered in pain as he forced the bones in his leg into place, and muttered words of healing to the sound of a large crack his bones reshaped and cartilage rejoined. Vanir arrived half way through the process, healing the things Eragon had chosen to ignore, and helped him to his feet.

"Did she swallow it? Did she swallow the antidote?"

Eragon didn't reply. He limped forward, still hurting, and hugged Saphira as tightly as he could.

_"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."_

Vanir bit his tongue as he watched the sudden change.

_"I... I broke my promise. ...I swore that... that I would always be there for you. I swore you would always come first."_

The elf turned and walked away. This was a private moment he knew he couldn't disturb.

_"I failed you. When you needed me, I failed you." _Eragon shuddered and pulled himself closer to her. Carefully, he lifted her heavy head off the ground and held it, one hand stroking her nose and smoothest of scales.

_"I'm so sorry... ...So, so sorry."_

_---_

_---_

Saphira didn't move once the whole night. Not even a low growl or weak flutter of her tail. Only her ragged breaths spoke of life. Eragon was there every moment. Never moving away, even when his eyes were red and sore from crying and his hand was numb from holding and stroking her rough scales he refused to stop. He just kept her close to his heart, wishing in tones soft and near silent.

Vanir was as quiet as he could. He cleaned the darkened vomit and bile using magic, and did his best to repair the damage done by Saphira's claws and spikes. He left several times to find replacements for what he could not repair, the first of which being the membranous cover of the door so could protect them from the chills of the night.

Ellesmera was in an uproar. At first the elves had been furious about Vanir's brutal invasion of their privacy, but this was soon forgotten amongst mention of what had befallen the dragon in their midst. Word had travelled faster than wildfire, and hundreds of elves soon crowded the treehouse.

Vanir would let none in. Even when Islanzadi herself came to the doorstep he refused her entry. It was not something that had occurred in polite terms, on her part at least. Eragon however, was deaf to the commotion. He only stayed where he was, silent. As dead to the world as Saphira was.

Sometime past midnight, when he had finally convinced the other elves to be quiet, Vanir blew out the candles and watched over the two under the shroud of moonlight. Eventually, Eragon became drowsy, though his grip never weakened. As the rider's eyes blinked shut for the final time that night, his lips fluttered with anguished words.

_"I'm so sorry, it's all my fault... ...how could you ever forgive me...?"_

---

---

Vanir didn't sleep. And once seated, nor did he move, except to occasionally touch the teardrop-shaped gem which hung from his neck by a fine silver chain. He drew upon it to keep himself energized, and in turn vigilant, so he could hold his watchful gaze steady.

He had watched as Eragon's eyes flickered to the morning sun, quickly driving him into waking. Saphira was covered with a new layer of sweat, a sign of her continuingly prominent fever. As well, her skin was still tinted with green, but her breaths no longer seemed so forced, like she was trying to push it through a thin tube.

Her life was on a delicate balance, and they, rider and elf, both knew it.

An hour after sunrise, Vanir finally got up. He opened the door to let fresh air in, and the went for a bucket and sponge to bring to the dragon. With this, Eragon finally showed his own signs of life. He snatched away the bucket without speaking or even meeting his gaze, but Vanir obliged his wishes just as silently.

Using the sponge and warm water, he cleaned her like he had two days previous. Except this time, there was no joy nor calm in it, just empty silence. The sweat stunk, reeking of a rot and decay Eragon wasn't sure existed. Twice he refilled the bucket, but the smell lingered in the air like a ghost, determined to haunt him.

Hours later the stench finally cleared, leaving a dusky scent in its absence. But Eragon soon realised it was not a smell at all, but rather a lack of. _Saphira. _He had never noticed it before. A subtle change in the air that was one of the few remnants of her true existence. Now that what he had known for so long was gone, the air felt like an empty void. He wished now, that he had appreciated it when it was still there.

...Vanir walked into the room, and looked at Eragon sadly before placing a basket of fruits by his side. "Eragon."

The rider didn't even blink.

The elf plucked an apple from the basket. "Eragon... you need to eat."

No response.

"You need to keep up your strength. If you don't, then..." The elf paused for a moment, frowning guiltily at what he was about to do. "...then who will take care of her?"

That got his attention in a heartbeat, and another wave of guilt swam over Vanir's features for exploiting Eragon's current weakness. Though that was nothing compared to seeing the haunted, empty look in Eragon's tearstained eyes. Only when the rider turned his gaze away did Vanir realise he'd been holding in a breath, and he felt a tear slide over him, quickly falling to the floor.

Eragon bit into the apple and quickly looked back at it with revulsion, as if the mere taste of food sickened him. Even though he knew it tasted sweet, all he could taste was bitterness. Still, he took another bite, not caring for the taste in a world where he suddenly felt so numb to.

Vanir had been right. With some food in his stomach, his energy began to flow again, and his mind lit up very slightly, enough for him to think instead of only wallow in the prison that his mind had become. But that was, in this instance, a double edged sword. He realised another problem. That anyone, even those sick, would have to eat. Without strength to recover, how could he ever hope for it in Saphira?

She certainly could not hunt at the moment, but even if he could bring food to her, how was he to make her eat it?

Vanir looked at him, confused as to his sudden deepness of thought. Eragon looked up at him suddenly, imploring, then quickly looked over to the dragoness.

He understood. "I will. Go, do what you must."

Eragon blinked, and with agility reminiscent of his desperate times, he ran, leaping from the ledge of the treehouse with magically enhanced strength.

...Vanir looked back at the dragoness and sighed. "He's such a fool. In certain ways. As blind as a bat, if you will." Again, the elf sighed sadly. "So many of us are blind to the truths around us." His gaze wandered to the ceiling, then to the sun reaching from the treetops outside. "Though, I wonder... are you beginning to trust me, as I trust you, shadeslayer?"

---

---

Even though he knew it had to be done, fresh guilt plagued him as he thought again about what he had to do. ...But he didn't care. He refused to allow circumstance to halt him. He knew, for this reason, he would force fate to bend to his will.

Saphira meant more to him than any part of his own being did.

...As he slowed in his approach, getting ready to do what he must, he began to realise something what had lingered on his mind for a long time now.

Saphira... she meant more to him than anything did. Be it a person or the earth itself, he would tear it down for her sake. For her life. For her happiness. ...For her love...

...Eragon shook his head, dispelling the thoughts. They were rider and dragon after all, weren't they? Wasn't it supposed to be that way?

_...Wasn't it...?_

This time, he forced the thoughts from his mind as his prey came into view. A lone buck came into view, and Eragon's eyes focused on it with utmost precision. Unconsciously, magic gathered within him as he continued to stare, fighting the part in him that screamed what he was about to do was wrong.

...He still didn't care.

The magic finally gathered to a point, but with a sudden difficulty he attributed to Saphira's absence. Still, Eragon raised his faintly glimmering palm to the unaware creature.

"Jierda!"

There was a loud crack and a flash of light, and a great deal of energy fled him. Much more than expected. The buck crumpled instantly, its neck shattered in more ways than one, and as it landed and its eyes came to rest, its vacant stare, unknowingly directed at its murderer, was a horrible reminder of what now was.

And still, Eragon didn't care.

Undelicatly, he darted forward and heaved the animal to his shoulders. It was heavier than he expected, but just when he thought he might not be able to make it back, strength grew within him and he took off running, despite the pain he felt as the animal's bones impacted on his back with every step.

---

---

If the elves had said something as he walked up the high stairs of the treehouse, he hadn't cared to hear it. They parted before him, in reverence or fear he didn't know, and he was soon back with Saphira. Vanir looked on with indifference, not liking what had to be done but accepting that it was necessary. The dragoness must survive, if not for the fate of Eragon than every creature that would suffer should the lone pair be lost forever.

Eragon had not used his hunting knife in quite some time. The last was when he attempted to eat meat after his arrival in Ellesmera, but he new found beliefs in the separate identities of animals had held his hand. He had felt like a murderer then. So why didn't he now? Again, he didn't question it as he cut through the buck's flesh, cutting its greatest bulk into small slabs of meat, letting the blood spill to the floor with horrible indifference. Vanir could not stop himself from recoiling, his beliefs stronger than Eragon's were, and he fled to the balcony for fresh air.

Eragon collected a handful of pieces in his hand, and gently pried Saphira's mouth open. It was no easy task. Her muscles, howbeit weak in comparison to her norm, resisted his strength greatly. Once he had done that, he reached deep into her mouth, and further still into her throat, careful not to touch and of the reflexive nerves that would cause her to gag, and possibly bite down harder. He could have neither. Once he was nearly up to his elbow into her mouth he flicked the pieces into their destination, for he had needed to reach this deep to ensure they reached her stomach instead of her lungs. It was by all means, a delicate task.

Once he was assured of their safe passage, he pulled out, still using the other hand to keep her mouth open. However, he soon realised that he could not hold her mouth the same time as he could cut up the meat for her, and it took far too much energy to pry it open in the first place.

In short, he needed help.

"Vanir? Could you come here?"

As Eragon met his eyes, the elf nodded slowly, feeling sick amongst the stench of blood. Before entering the room he grabbed a rag of fabric that was once part of what Saphira had destroyed, and wrapped it around his face before entering.

"Sorry, I just can't stand the smell, not amongst the sweetness of Ellesmera, at least."

Eragon only nodded in reply, then motioned to Vanir to hold Saphira's jaws. The elf did as commanded just as wordlessly, though with justified trepidation at putting his hands into the mouth of the beast. Once he was secure, Eragon returned to dissecting the animal, occasionally putting down the blade so he could feed his dragon. Thankfully, none of it came back up.

...The rider put the knife aside. That was enough... for now at least. He had a good amount of meat left, cut into pieces as they were. The only things left were the bones, and a few organs he left alone. He raised his hand, tapping into the flow of magic simultaneously, and suddenly the meat froze over, preserving it for another day. He then picked up the bloody carcass and placed it in a sack previously used for potatoes, ignoring the liquid that spilled onto his shoulder through the bag's seams, and took it from the treehouse to bury in the forest. He still retained at least that part of his morals.

...His magic was finally compensating for the loss. It had become weakened nearly to the point of non existence when Saphira became comatose, but it had been recovering slowly. Again he could feel the energy and power of magic, just beyond his fingers. He raised dirt with a single word, and then placed the dissected buck into the hole, then buried it just as easily.

But he still had work to do. The hunter he was couldn't finish yet.

The next animal, a deer this time, died slower but without pain as he drained it of its strength. Using the energy he gained from it, he allowed blades of magic to collect the meat from it, piling it into the bloodied sack. He then buried it the same way.

The meat froze the moment he said the word, and Eragon swooned slightly under the drain of energy. Still he dragged more still out of his body as he ran with the heavy bag in hand, it's suddenly hard surface requiring delicacy in its transport. When he arrived Vanir seemed to note the bag, but made no mention of it even as Eragon scooped the already frozen pieces into it, and deposited it in a corner where the blood on the bag, (because the blood within the meat was frozen as well) would not stain the floors. Then using what remained of his strength, he cleaned up the mess, and created a gust of wind to free the smell.

...Eragon slumped next to Saphira, completely drained despite the earliness of the day. The sun had barely risen and already he was ready to sleep. So, he had no power, or even will, to resist Vanir as he placed a hand on Eragon's forehead and muttered "Slytha."

Vanir sighed. The things that he and Eragon had done had to be done. And perhaps, would need to be done again. He didn't particularly like it, but he accepted it. Now Eragon needed rest, and he was content to forgo his own to watch them. He wandered the treehouse slightly, and decided it was time to report the occurrences to the elven host outside. If they had stayed all night, he could reward them at least that much.

That said however, they were still too loud. But at least Islanzadi was civil this time. And as he finished and began retreating back into the treehouse, every face watched his leave. Every... bar one. Her eyes only met the ground.

A tear fell, unnoticed by the crowd. But Vanir did, and his heart slowed for her sake.

...He could not stay. Besides, he was the only one who knew what had happened between her and the rider, having seen it so clearly in their words, their actions and even their thoughts. There was a small bitterness toward her for the pain she had caused Eragon with her senseless and thoughtless actions, and he was not willing to forgive her yet.

And deeper down, he knew Eragon wouldn't either.

---

---

Eragon slept through the majority of the day. Not even the full strength of his will could fight the effects of days without sleep or food, coupled with emotional distress. That said however, that doesn't mean he couldn't manage to be conscious, even if his body was unresponsive.

In a daze, halfway between sleep and waking, his mind could wander. His rested state of mind dulling pain and feelings, and prevented his thoughts from reaching far.

So instead, he travelled the bridges that already stood.

Even in his current state, he still felt shocked as he treaded what had become a void. Saphira's mind was dark, almost empty of thought. A few clouds of her being brushed by as he ventured deeper and deeper into her consciousness, and soon he could feel whispers of her scattered feelings touching his mind.

...And then he stopped. Something was there, blocking his path.

That confused him. It was something that had never been there before. The rider could say without doubt that he knew her mind from back to front. He knew her personality, her feelings. And yet, here this was, defying all the things he claimed to know.

How? It had never been there before, the spot the it occupied had never existed. And yet it did, covered. Masked. Invisible to even him.

There had of course been things which she covered from him, and he knew that place well. Surrounded by impenetrable walls, that place had not existed until she had begun her tutoring with Glaedr, and learnt things he was not meant to know. And yet, this, this _thing _was both ancient and new. There from the start, and yet, grown with experience as her thoughts and feelings fed it, but still inexplicably secret.

_...But why would Saphira hide this from me?_

He had an anchor now. Something to hold onto so he could reach smoothly and strongly into waking, and thus, deeper into her mind, dipping so deeply into her soul that he would lost himself had she been awake, or even dreaming.

...What is it? It resisted all his attempts to pass it. And just as he tried, it faded out of existence for moments, dodging his blows. Every time it did, he could feel a wrinkle in her mind as her emotions, for that was what surrounded it, rushed to cover it over.

Protected. Hidden. Recently, even commonly thought of, yet ancient in origin.

_What had Saphira been hiding from me, this whole time...?_

_...What could she possibly have to hide?_

---

---

**"... ..."**

**"... ..."**

**"... ..."**

**"... ..."**

**"... ..."**

**"... ..."**

**_"He'sss asssleep again. Ssshall I order the attack now?"_**

**_"No, fool. There are still too many elves there. And that other one who guards them is still far too alert."_**

**_"Hssss. Why are we wasssting time. The dragon is weak. The rider is sssleeping and we ate far too long ago. My belly achesss for their flesssh."_**

**_"If I must remind you one more time I shall sever your neck and eat you myself. We did not pursue her scent for days for it all to come to naught. The wyrms have survived on luck for too long, we must eradicate their blighted presence from the world, ...permanently."_**

**_"...But to do that, we must wait. The last female will die. And the race of dragons will fall with her..."_**


	18. Released

Vanir sighed heavily. Finally, FINALLY, the elves were beginning to disperse. He was wondering how long it would take, but truth be told, he hadn't expected them to linger for two days. 

He sighed again, flicking his gaze to the sleeping rider and unconscious dragon. Two days of unrelenting fever, which refused go down. He and Eragon had taken to draping her with wet cloth, which seemed to help a small bit, but they were never sure.

And worse still, two days of empty silence from the rider. If he didn't know that he could, Vanir would have guessed that Eragon _couldn't_ speak. And even in those sparse moments when he was hearty enough to open his mouth, it was usually restricted to one or two words.

...But he hadn't expected any better. He could see the pain Eragon went through. The nightmares that tormented him in the night, and even when Vanir shook him he would not wake until they were done. And yet he still forced him endure them, in an attempt to recover a strength which just wouldn't return. But the elf knew why. His body may be ready, but his heart just wasn't trying.

Vanir yawned this time, arching his back like a cat to stretch. His energy was beginning to run out, he knew he was not the only person who needed sleep, and he needed it soon. He had eaten, but even if he drained more energy from his gem it have mattered. His body could only take so much strain.

The elf leant back in his chair. He just needed a bit of rest... Maybe if he closed his eyes... for just a moment...

He blinked. _Yeah... just a moment..._

_...just a..._

_...mo...ment..._

...The sounds of sleep filled the treehouse.

---

---

---

---

---

---

---

---

**_"Now?"_**

**_"Hsss... Yes. It is time._**

A hail of darts flew across clearing. The few elves that still remained at the treehouse never saw it coming, and were all struck in the neck.

...They blinked, and slowly turned to each-other.

...And then fell unconscious.

**_"I taste dragon flesh already..."_**

**_"Heh... not me. I've alwaysss wondered what a rider tassstes like."_**

**_"Haha... ...Shall we go find out?"_**

With all elves nearby unconscious due to sleeping darts, nobody noticed a flurry of shadows leap from tree to tree, and with a final leap, straight onto the ledge of the high up treehouse.

**_"I'm sure they won't begrudge us for starting without them."_**

**_"Heh... Not at all..."_**

Eragon turned over fitfully in his sleep. His mind captured by another nightmare.

The Ra'zac ignored him as it stepped forward and drew its sword silently. **_"...Her throat first..."_**

---

---

---

---

---

---

---

---

**_...ERAGON!_**

The rider's eyes shot open, awareness coming to him with all the gentleness of a dragon's roar. Instantly, he flinched sideways, his eyes coming to rest on the slowly descending blade.

Kroxis flew into his hands, its magic somehow bringing itself to him. In a blur of movement, Eragon was standing, and he blocked the Ra'zac's attack.

Its eyes widened visibly, its face unbound, unlike what Eragon had always known. It was a disgusting sight. A lump of crawling flesh, roughly shaped into human features. Nearly solid black eyes, accustomed well to the darkness of the night. Its teeth were razor sharp, each one looking like an incisor curving to a pointed end. Its mouth was wide and its jaw thick, capable of biting large chunks of flesh from their prey.

...But that would not happen this day, not if he has something to say about it.

Eragon shoved forward, breaking the air of surprise. The Ra'zac stumbled back, but caught its balance in less than a second. At the end of that second it charged, ready this time, with its companion flanking the rider from the side, inching slowly towards the dragon he protected.

"Don't you touch her..." He whispered softly, knowing fully that the Ra'zac had heard.

The Ra'zac stopped for a moment.

...It moved its foot closer.

"Brisingr!"

A pillar of fire shot from Eragon's shining palm, striking the Ra'zac in the stomach and forcing him backwards into the wall with a loud crack. At the same time he also flicked Kroxis from one hand to the other, and twirled around with incredible speed. The sword let out a shrill whistle as it cut through the air, coming down on the other Ra'zac's gaurd so powerfully that its sword was forced back and the strike connected anyway, burying Kroxis deep in its skull.

In an instant, both Ra'zac were dead.

...Another sound filled the air, and again Eragon spun quickly, spinning Kroxis so fast it was beyond a blur, it was almost as if he had held a shield in his hands.

**Clang-clang-cl-cl-cl-cl-cl-clang!**

The hail of darts was deflected in a blur of green metal, scattering around the room and burying itself in the wood.

...But not in any flesh.

Eragon panted...

**Thump. **A group of Ra'zac landed heavily on the gnarled wood of the balcony. Instantly, they darted inside and spread out amongst the walls of the room.

The rider had barely kept track of them as they had surrounded him. He breathed deeply, keeping a smooth face as he groped in his mind for the spot where his magic lay.

...It wasn't there.

Eragon cursed silently as he raised both head and sword. He knew he was still weak, but he hadn't expected this. He couldn't imagine a worse time.

The floor creaked, and Eragon was snapped from his racing mind. The Ra'zac were advancing slowly, swords ready to impale him should he even flinch. But as they advanced, even the loss of magic no longer concerned him. All thoughts but one were lost, spare for the domineering feeling that he mustn't let them get any closer.

...And yet, they did. Slowly moving forward, each individual guarded by those at their side. And so, the rider didn't dare attack out of fear of being cut to ribbons by their blades. So he stepped back. And back, and back, and soon, found nowhere to go. He could was pressed against Saphira, trying to find space that just wasn't there.

He was trapped. Beyond trapped. And worse, when he fell, and he knew he would if he remained where he was, they would be not even a single step away from the vulnerable dragon. His dragon.

The Ra'zac grinned, looking on with hatred and murder in their eyes.

Eragon looked on helplessly, his hand coming to rest behind him, and then sliding on a bed of smooth ivory. He seemed to pause for a moment as Saphira's horns graced his fingers, bone white to tanned flesh, and he slid even lower, feeling her scales beneath his touch and a weak breath whooshing past, slow, cool, ...but alive.

A flash of blue sparked over Eragon's left hand, and the Ra'zac flinched backward. Another flash, and the rider suddenly stood tall, as if suddenly renewed of strength.

**_"Don't take another step..."_**

Blue sparked once more, but this time it lingered for a moment longer, basking the room in aquamarine moonlight.

**_"While I am here... you will not touch her..."_**

He drew a long, deep breath, and looked at the invaders, who again flinched backwards under his gaze, looking between each other warily.

Anyone would have, if they had suddenly seen bolts of energy travel up the angry Shur'tugal's arm.

**_"If it is what it will take," _**

Real moonlight shone down on the group, and the flashes of light grew even stronger.

**_"...my life...-_**

The Ra'zac forced themselves forward, muscles twitching in envy.

**_-...is forfeit."_**

Eragon closed his eyes, and when they opened again, they flashed with sapphire flames.

In a single moment, the air around them all exploded with light and heat, and at the same time, the rider blurred forward, diving beneath the first Ra'zac's guard in a flash of green and a spurt of blood. Eragon's body didn't even register the pain as a line of red was gouged through his arm, and he wrenched Kroxis to the side, spinning and slashing to the chorus of swords whirling through the air.

Blood splattered, and another Ra'zac fell, effortlessly rent in two by the flaming blade. Beside him, two of his brethren suddenly caught aflame, screaming in agony as inferno consumed them.

**Slinkt!**

Eragon growled in pain, but still managed to whirl Kroxis in a deadly arc, removing his opponent's arm from the elbow down, and then stab forward, only to see him explode in a wave of fire and chitin as the dragonblade's flames ravaged the inside of the foul predator's body and shot outward.

...The last Ra'zac wailed as it was consumed by blue flames.

Eragon panted slightly, the glow in his eyes fading as his body relaxed. Slowly, he removed a blackened blade from his leg, once again feeling pain as blood poured down his side.

...A cry filled the air, and his head snapped upward, the aquamarine halo returning instantly. Lethrblaka filled his vision, one, sometimes two Ra'zac on every one of their parents. They rushed through the gaps in the trees, spurned on by the failure of their forebears, filling the clearing that was the central glade of Ellesmera. Soon, they seemed to cover up the sky itself, and many had turned, rushing toward the treehouse with murderous glee.

Eragon flicked his arms to his sides, exposing his palms. On his right hand, the Gedwey Ignasia glowed bright silver, partially hidden underneath the hilt of a sword. On his left, a sapphire blue symbol which shone in a hue resembling both the moon and the dragon that lay dormant behind him.

Several Ra'zac leapt of their monstrous mounts, their feet hitting the precipice of the treehouse with a loud thump.

...A blue spark flew between the Shur'tugal hands.

**BA-BOOM!**

In a tremendous flash of light and heat, a torrent of flame suddenly erupted from the confines of the treehouse. The Ra'zac standing on its doorstep were incinerated instantly, and the Lethrblaka had to dart away as the attack shot further still. Most made it away, but some didn't, and fell to the ground as a pile of ash.

And yet, as the flame receded, those that remained could see that not a single grain of wood had been even scorched by the onslaught. And as the sapphire flames receded further, a shadow appeared amongst them, walking from darkness into light, brushing the cinders that covered its form aside.

For the first time, the transformation was complete. The beast that had lay dormant inside Eragon for so long had been released.

**And the beast was angry...**


	19. Eithgride abr wyrda du brisingr

I bet you weren't expecting a chapter THIS soon. Well, its was bound to happen at least once, and my muse is sticking around at the moment. (That's a change). But maybe that's because I enjoyed writing this chapter so much. A small note in this fact is I will probably have to go and rid the mary-sueness from one or two previous chapters eventually, and that I will not enjoy.

But anyway, on further matters, here is a warning. This chapter is, err, quite gory. And I don't mean on little small things. But on the other hand, for those who _like _that stuff, I suggest you read slowly to obtain full blood soaked pleasure. Or maybe even re-read the chapter, you'll probably see things you missed on the first time.

For those who would ask, no I am not changing the rating because of this chapter, simply because, I don't intend to make _this _level of gore a habit.

Free mention for the first person to figure out what the chapter name means. I have an alternate title just for kicks, and that is 'Unchained.'

Well, I've rambled long enough, enjoy!

_

* * *

_

"Ugh..." Eragon moaned quietly, feeling hands shaking him into waking. His head pounded in a steady rythme, and he opened his eyes to the blur of sunshine.

"Wh-what.. what happened?"

He recognized Vanir's voice, and he slowly turned to hear him. He could feel his brain twitching as it tried to understand through the pain, and as he turned his head further and the haze cleared, the voice became legible.

"-ou hear me? You've been out of it for hours." He half laughed under his breath. "I don't think you're ready for it yet."

"...R-ready?" Eragon slurred, the pain in is skull suddenly intensifying. "Ready for what?"

Vanir muttered something under his breath. Eragon felt his head clear, and the pain dulled momentarily. A moment later, he forced a cup into Eragon's face, and he unthinkingly obliged. Instantly, he felt a sting go down his parched throat.

"I'll give you a moment, you're badly dehydrated. Frankly, I'm not at all surprised. You threw about quite a bit a fire out there. You probably incinerated all the moisture in the air."

"...Fire?"

**FLASH**

Eragon swooned, and felt an image swim before his eyes.

_A Ra'zac spasmed in agony as the flame continued to weave through his body, suddenly becoming silent as two ribbons of blue shot through his eyes, leaving nothing but a smoking corpse behind, its hollow sockets gleaming against its blackened skull._

The rider shook slightly, and suddenly lurched forward, gagging.

"Easy." Said Vanir softly. "Rest for a moment. You're still weak."

"I- wh-what?...-

**FLASH**

_**"Pitiful fools."** He raised his arm, further tightening his grip on a Ra'zac's neck as he raised it higher, its feet dangling helplessly. **"All this time... you were waiting. You followed her scent in the dark, and waited for the right time. Waited for months... for us to be weak." **A rumbling laugh filled the air. **"And yet, all that, to release something as strong as the dragons you fear..."**_

**_Snap._**

_He flicked his arm to the side, and, for a moment, watched the Ra'zac as it fell limply towards the forest floor. The other, which he had almost ignored until now, swung his sword in a furious overhead arc._ _The rider lazily sidestepped it, then flicked Kroxis forward, burying it in the Ra'zac's chest before it could even blink._

_Eragon raised his foot and kicked the invader off the sword, again spending a moment to watch in amusement as it fell helplessly to splatter on the ground below. Below him, the Lethrblaka again began to gain height now that the extra weight had been released, and performed a tricky airial roll to remove him from its back. It didn't expect, however, for the Shur'tugal to dig the claws on his feet into its flesh, hanging on for the ride and ensuring it never came out of the manouver properly, only then to jump off just before it helplessly splattered into a tree._

_Eragon grinned, and unfurled his wings as he spun into a dive, lancing towards a pair of Lethrblaka a hundred feet below._

Again, Eragon gagged, feeling bile collect in his throat.

Vanir pushed him back down, muttering a few words he thought might help. They didn't. "Try to relax. Now... tell me, do you remember what happened?"

"I... I remember...-

**FLASH**

_**"Do you remember me?" **He yelled, laughing all the while. _**_"You will after tonight!"_**

Eragon felt dizzy this time.

"Hey, are you listening?"

The rider nodded slowly, but as he did, his gaze wandered down.

In front of him, only a few feet away, was a tremendous smear of blood.

Eragon jerked, but Vanir held him still. "It's okay. It is not mine, nor yours, nor any one of our allies. You, Eragon, protected us all."

**FLASH**

_**Slinkt! **The rider looked on silently as two Ra'zac landed on the balcony. The Lethrblaka they had been riding had ignored Eragon completely, going for the dragon they suddenly thought was vulnerable. They had barely touched down, however, when the sword he had thrown a moment earlier impaled him through the throat, and he fell, spluttering, to the floor._

_Its partner, on the other hand, grinned as he plucked the elegant blade from his fallen sibling and moved to finish the dragon once and for all._

_...He didn't make it a single step. Less than a second after he had grabbed it, quick as a dart, vines burst from Kroxis's handle, growing at an unimaginable speed. The Ra'zac howled, trying in vain to let go as it quickly they began dominating the inside of its arm, spreading into its shoulder, chest and finally, heart._

_It collapsed to the floor, no longer being a body but instead a mass of blood and twisting vines._

_**"Interesting." **Eragon mused, catching a sword swing with one of the spikes on his arm. **"Didn't know it could do THAT."**_

_His thought were interupted as the now passengerless Lethrblaka decided to try its luck at getting through the door, but was interupted as a bolt of lightning appeared out of nowhere and hit it between the eyes. Eragon had no doubt the last thing it saw was a flash of light from Naegling's gem as the magic he had imbued it with fuffilled its purpose._

_**"When will they learn," **Eragon half-turned around and knelt down on a Lethrblaka's back, keeping an eye on his tail as it whipped around and tripped the Ra'zac also aboard, who were, rather unsuccessfully, trying to attack him. On his other side, he dug his clawed hand into the Lethrblaka's neck and, amidst screams of pain and suddenly gushing blood, grabbed onto somthing... ...and pulled._

_Suddenly, it lacked half of its spine. Eragon took this as his que to get off, and in mid air, subtly waved to the Ra'zac and wondered how long it would take them to realise their means of staying airborne had suddenly become paralised._

_The rider snickered. Not like it mattered anyway._

Eragon lurched yet again, gagged... and vomited on the floor.

Vanir patted him on the back, then held supported his shoulder as he threatened to collapse.

_"S...Saphira."_

"Shh. She's okay."

Eragon tried to turn, but the elf shoved the cup into his face again, forcing him to drink, and wash down what was left in his throat. He fought for a moment, then slumped weakly, suddenly aware of how completely drained he felt.

Vanire slipped his Eragon's arm over his shoulders and supported him as he turned, wanting to see the point where she was supposed to lay.

**FLASH**

_Eragon looked at the ball of flame that had suddenly appeared in his palm. He looked at the approaching Lethrblaka. He looked back at the sapphiric orb._

_...He threw it._

_**Phwoooooomb**_

_A Ra'zac landed on the balcony beside him, having jumped only a moment before. Eragon looked casually to the side, smirked, and placed his fingers to either side of his mouth..._

_**Phwoooooooooooooooooomb**_

_...and watched it get incinerated by a makeshift 'dragon's breath.' Admitably, Eragon probably held it for a few moments longer than neccessary, but he redeemed himself a moment later as he summonned a much larger fireball to incinerate a dzen that happened to be nearby._

_And they continued coming, even still, some were entering the glade through the trees._

_He hadn't expected, however, for several of them to suddenly fall dead. The rider flicked his gaze around, but he almost didn't have to. A being made of shimmering light had appeared, seemingly pointing at the invaders. Eragon squinted his eyes, then drew back. He recognized this one. It had been a long time ago, when he had first entered Ellesmera. He seemed different now though, but the rider easily put that down to the fact that someone had entered the city without his permission. That, Eragon guessed, hadn't happened in a very long time, and he seemed to be very annoyed at that fact._

_That, and the fact that they were invaders. _

_Another group dropped dead, and a hail of arrows filled the air. Not surprisingly, they were very accurate._

_Eragon didn't even bother looking for this one. It meant the calvary had arrived, and someone in Ellesmera had actually noticed the giant light show he had put on._

_...Though, that didn't mean he was done._

_Another group swooped into the clearing._

_The rider looked back at the dragon behind him... then... slowly, looked back._

_The blue glow that had stayed with him the whole fight suddenly became blindingly bright. Likewise, his gedwey ignasia suddenly took on a spectacular sheen._

_Below, the few elves attuned to magic felt a shockwave shoot through the air as magic began gathering._

_Gathering... amongst the Ra'zac and Lethrblaka._

_Eragon looked at them... and closed his emerald eyes._

**_"Brisingr."_**

The rider opened his brown eyes.

_"Saphira."_

"I did tell you." grinned Vanir.

Eragon looked at her again, as if she would suddenly vanish. She didn't. Slowly, he reached out, and faltered as his arm fell limp. His energy was now, too far gone. He blinked wearily, feeling his mind sink into blissful oblivion.

Vanir smirked, half carrying, half dragging the Shur'tugal's weight. A moment later, Eragon felt his weight resting against something. Something warm, slightly moving with irregular breaths. He opened his eyes blurrily, and could see someone standing over him.

The residant elf smiled. "Don't worry Eragon. I'm not finished gaurding yet. You had a good idea a while ago." The pendant that hung from his neck glowed for a second. "Rest..."

Vanir watched as the rider's eyes slid shut. He paused, then wandered over to shut the curtains from the invading sunshine.

"So much to do..." He muttered quietly as the last of the light was blocked away.

**FLASH**

_"Eragon."_

_The creature turned and looked at the elf as he walked forward, ignoring the chorus of screams as hundreds of lives were extinguished in a single blazing moment._

_**"Not quite. But neither not at all. I am something... imbetween ...what he is.**_

_Vanir sighed and leant against the wall. "And what is that?"_

_Its eyes flashed, and it grinned. **"Destiny!"**_

_The elf raised an eyebrow. "More than that. I know what guides you."_

_It was Eragon's turn to raise an eyebrow, albeit, a very scaly one. **"Do you now?"** He released a rumbling sound. Vanir recognized it as laughter. **"And what is that?"**_

_"You know what."_

_He laughed again, and the halo of sapphire light that bathed his palm flickered brightly, then began to fade. **"...My time is passing." **Eragon looked at Saphira, and a strange emotion flickered across his face. This time, Vanir didn't figure out what it was. _

_**"I know what I must do..."**_

_Suddenly, a aquamarine flame appeared, spreading over the entirety of Eragon's body. He looked over, and gave Vanir one last toothy (and very sharp), grin. **"Like it or not, destiny still calls..."**_

_He fell to his knees, the world going dark. The last thing he saw was Vanir darting over, catching him a long time before he could hit the ground._

"...I... I know what I must do." said Eragon tiredly.

"And what is that?"

He didn't answer. Vanir looked away, knowing the rider was already asleep, and frowned.

"I'm worry for you Eragon..." He said softly, to nothing but the air itself. "...When destiny catches up to you... will you be ready for it..." He looked at the blood on the ground, then to the curtains, as though he could see beyond them. "...or will it destroy you?"


	20. The beginnings of madness

Running.

It was all he could do. He had a place. A destination. And he would go.

...It was fate, it was destiny. The words of the werecats rung in his head.

Running.

_When the time comes and all seems lost... _He laughed bitterly as he increased his speed. The prophesies never come out like you think. Maybe it was the bit on the end... ..._and your power is insufficient... _Hah, so this is how it's meant to be translated in the end. Yes, he was too weak to do many things. But he never suspected it would be a lack of knowledge or simply carelessness that would leave Saphira hanging on the strings of death like an old marionette whose bonds were waiting to be cut.

He had been to young.

Too stupid.

To utterly _careless._

He had been so gifted by her. So gifted even now he could only help but beat and scratch against the heights of it all.

Her devotion had been perfect. Such a perfect thing had happened to him and he had never even stood back and admired just how blessed he was.

Running. Run run run run run run _run._

_Faster._

Blind.

Idiotic.

He was everything that Angela had said.

If his idiocy could make Elva, it could certainly destroy Saphira.

_Run faster._

His form shifted as he ran, blue flaming dancing about his body as he transformed for a few precious minutes where the speed was blinding and the world was dead to him beneath that cold shell of scales and talons.

_Faster!_

_...go to the rock of Kuthian and speak your name to open the vault of souls._

He ducked and weaved beneath trees. He jumped, clearing the ground for three seconds as roots flashed beneath him and a tree approached like a giant arrow of wood, but then his feet landed and darted around and forward like a jagged bolt of green-clothed lightning.

Hah, as if he even knew where that was! Damn the werecats and their cryptic clues. A part of him wanted to go to wherever the Varden were camped just so he at least try to rip the answer out of that furred head.

_Faster! Go faster!_

His form shifted once more, and he shot above the trees in a jolt of blue flames and dark wings. The ancient oaks of Du Weldenvarden blurred beneath him... it.

He pushed himself harder, drawing upon magic to push his body faster than he had the energy to keep up with. It was deadening.

Eragon just didn't care.

It helped, if nothing else.

When he reached a speed that the air seemed to tear around him and he was no longer capable of conscious thought, some part within him smiled because he could no longer feel the ache of a dying heart.

...And he couldn't feel that he was getting further away from her by the second.

_Run!_

_Faster!_

_Faster go faster run faster faster faster run **run run Run Faster Run Run FASTER FASTER FASTER!**_

...

...

...

...By the time he could think again, there wasn't a forest in sight.

It hurt worse than anything, even as he pushed against the bleeding feet that had torn apart the boots by running or the muscles and skin which no longer transmitted any sense beside _pain._

He cursed.

And he damned them.

No sense, just obscene curses torn way by the screaming wind.

He damned the elves for not finding the Ra'zac.

He damned the Varden for dragging them into this war.

He damned Galbatorix for merely existing.

He damned Brom for not telling him to protect her.

He damned Oromis for not slapping some sense into him and saying just how precious life really was.

He damned himself for everything.

He damned, and cursed until his throat was as raw as his chapped lips or bleeding limbs.

And as the world went dark in the middle of the day, in the middle of the middle of an unknown expanse of grassy plains, he fell and cried and tasted coppery tears all at the same time.

* * *

She cooed.

It was a strange sound coming out of her mouth, but by the ancestors, it was so _right._

He nuzzled her gently, and in turn she nuzzled the clutch of eggs she shielded with her mighty forelegs.

Behind, an elf chuckled breathily at the overt display of affection, and Vervada turned and gave Vrael a half hearted, but still withering, glare. She then proceeded to draw the white dragon before her a little closer, absorbing him into her comfort zone.

It only caused the elf to laugh harder.

"So introverted... eesh. I can't imagine what Iormungr here had to go through to get close to you."

Said dragon wished that Vrael would act his age for once. Even though he seemed to escape the ravages of time more gracefully than any other elf or rider did, (still black haired and bright eyed at the age of three thousand and something) it'd be nice to see him not consistently making light of things.

The purple she-dragon by his side nipped at the spiky crest on his face, then nuzzled him.

Vrael whistled.

Iormungr ignored him, and returned in kind.

The elf laughed again. "See, now that's why I need to find a partner, no? I wish everyone would get over the glory treatment, ya know..."

_"Which you encouraged."_

"...And regretted soon enough when it became apparent no hot tail..." He paused. "...Err... okay... lets not try and use dragon terminology for once, you're in my head too much..." He cleared his throat. "...Anyway, I regretted that once it became apparent that no pretty she-elf under the age of two thousand wanted to look at my with pretty eyes anymore."

_"Which elf society looks down on. Stupid, may I add. And with the added fact that the only ones you like to look at are half your age or much younger, an especially prominent distance considering it's you."_

The three thousand year old elf pouted.

Iormungr chuckled. It was quite loud, considering. Especially within Vervada's cave. Though, that title had been extended these days...

A moment later, he half jumped as she did something entirely unexpected, and the white on his face become a healthy pink, the result of his white scales mixing with a lot of crimson.

Vervada paused, and looked at Vrael skeptically, asking with her eyes if he wanted to watch.

He could almost swear she was grinning.

The rider returned in kind. "Oh, don't mind me. Get on to whatever you're gonna do. I mean, it's not like I have all that much choice. After all, I'm only tied to your _soul, _and of course that means nothing. No, not even when I'm in the middle of the council and some are wondering why you didn't come along and _suddenly _you're both struck by the inspiration to do some juvenile experimentation?"

He turned, half scowling at this point. "Noooooooooo... it's not like nobody was wondering why I'm keeping my thoughts to myself while fidgeting and sweating horribly in my seat. Not at all. And of course Oromis didn't figured it out despite avoiding me for two straight weeks afterward. Oh, and it doesn't matter that he hasn't even looked me in the eyes since!"

Iormungr sighed, then yelped as Vervada made another very _forward _gesture. _"Don't start this again..."_

Vrael spun about to face him. "No. I reserve the right to complain as much as I want dammit. And if you want to argue, I'll be creating a phantasm of the 'decleration' incident up in Doru Areaba."

The elf turned and pranced towards the cave entrance. **"IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII'VE FOUND THE MOST BEAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTIFUL DRAGON IN THE WHOLE !"**He jumped and landed on his knees a few times for emphasis before he leapt off the cliff face outside the cave. A moment later, magic rippled through the air, a sign that Vrael was now floating down slowly to await the torment.

Iormungr sighed.

Vervada got even closer, feeling very pleased to have some privacy.

The white dragon turned, and this time Vervada blushed a greater purple as he did something she liked. A lot.

_"Now where were we?"_

The she-dragon folded the eggs up closer to herself, nuzzled Iormungr lovingly, and began humming.

The eggs listened to her song.

* * *

...

...Eragon stirred.

His mouth tasted bloody.

His limbs were wet with half congealed blood, his hair matted in a horrible effigy of half dried goo.

"It's been days. He's been unconscious the whole time. He may not even wake up." A man's voice. Assured and proud, but still relenting.

He sat up in the bed lightly, his world lurching beneath him.

Everything burned like fire.

"I don't think so. Elves are made of stronger stuff than that, no matter how frail they may look." A woman's voice this time, strong and confident. The sound pounded against Eragon's pointed ears roughly, but he heard perfectly.

The rider spat out gooey trail as he stood shakily and coughed, spraying a dirty wooden wall in mists of blood. He blinked. His vision blurred and his head spun like he was too far drunk.

"Hah, I think that's him now."

The world spun a little more, but Eragon managed to catch a glance at the two that entered. Sure enough, there was a man and a woman. The man wore leather and carried a short sword. The woman wore chain mail with golden filigree. A bloodied rapier hung at her side.

"You sure this is enough to hold him?" The man sounded uncertain for a second.

Only now did Eragon realize that there were a set of iron bars standing between him and them.

She snorted. "However they made that sword, it's away from him at the moment. Lost two good men to take it too, but I doubt he could swat flies right now."

The man laughed. "He'll do great at market. We'll make make a king's wage!"

She cuffed him on the back of the head. "We're not taking him to market fool. We're taking him to the king himself. We'll get unheard of treasures for delivering a live elf to him." She licked her lips slightly. "Though I might be tempted to have some fun first..."

"I agree." The man added. "Nice enough lookin' that you could mistake 'im for a girl easy enough. I think I will actually."

"Not too rough." She added. "Have to have him in good condition. The king'll want to torture him immediately. With him, he could find out about where the Varden are, and where the elves hide! Not just that, but all kinds of secrets they don't want him to have."

"Can't believe we lost two elite teams against that bloody rider and his dragon." The man grouched.

Eragon's eyes shot up. But his muscles failed, dragging him to the floor.

"It was a over a year ago, let it go..."

A beat.

"...Hmph, though, I admit it'll be nice to not have the Varden out of our business again. And I would really like to see that she-dragon torn apart...-"

There was no more speech.

The woman chocked as an arm held her up by the throat. The bars that had held him, held _it _back, had suddenly warped from shape by themselves as he had reached and... ...Her nose touched the ceiling as he squeezed...

Green eyes flashed.

A deep snarl from a jagged-toothed mouth.

The man cried out in blood-splattered fear as he tried to run.

He made it two steps before flames licked his boots, consuming him for three horrifying seconds of agony.

The screams fell silent.

Mouths opened, howling as the smell of burning flesh burst from the caravan.

_Die **Die **Die **Die **Die **Die **Die **Die **Die** Die**_ **_DIE! DIE! DIE!_**

* * *

"Four eggs... four children to be. Heh, seems like it's going to be tough on you." His voice would have been carried away by the wind, if not for the fact he leant closely against the dragon's neck, nearly close enough to whisper and still be heard.

Iormungr flapped for a moment, rising and falling amongst the breeze. _"It's different for us. I'd expect you'd know that by now."_

"I do... it just... feels..." Vrael sighed. He looked strangely mature for a moment. "Maybe I'm just thinking of me, guessing what it'll mean for me when I'm in this as much as you. ...But we both know that, don't we...? ...I'm looking forward to it with baited breath. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm not going to be a father, but more like the unrelated uncle who's always hanging around."

There was a long second. "Whether I show it or not, I couldn't give words to how much I love getting away so I can visit her with you."

The white dragon turned slightly. His eyes spoke of pity.

"I want to be close to her. Like you. I shouldn't want it. It's something that should be so wrong but oh how I desire to be able to go up to her like you do. I feel the little inklings when you're close... but it never feels like enough."

He laughed partly bitterly.

The pity got deeper.

"She doesn't even trust me. She plays... but she doesn't trust a human or elf or anything but a dragon to get close... But why am I saying this? It's not my place..."

Iromungr nudged him affectionately before returning his eyes to flight. _"In time." _He promised. _"She touches my mind all the time, feeling what I feel when we're close. ...She is beginning to understand you. Trust will come. Besides, my promise stands."_

"I know I promised the council I'd try, but that's not something I would hold you to, my friend."

_"You misunderstand. I would love to see a child of mine experience the same things I have. Only the bonded understand the bonded. Or, at least, most of the time. I would love so for a son or daughter to find the same friendship that I have found in you. I would love be able to return to Vroengard and find family there. I would love for you to be able to greet my children and see them greet you in kind, with emotions unchecked and understanding alive."_

"We could even be the one to teach them and their rider." Muttered Vrael.

There was a wave of happiness through the link. _"So we could. Vervada has already promised. If there are any that do not hatch before the spring equinox, we may give them the chance. It was as much as I could get from her."_

A moment of surprise. "I'm surprised you got anything at all. She's so protective of those children to be..."

An amused chuckle sounded through the link. _"It was because of you. When she chose to reach in to my mind and understand me, I held back nothing... ...She's closer to trusting you than you think..."_

* * *

Burning.

Oh, the burning.

He had barely been conscious for more than a second, and already he was vomiting into the grass.

Charred flesh lie around, mutilated corpses pinned by their own bones to the slave keeping caravans they had led.

Blood drenched the ground.

His legs.

His arms.

His hands.

His mouth.

_Oh gods..._

He spat out a wad of squishy grey matter and human hair.

And vomited once more.

Amidst the gore, Kroxis drunk deeply, the vines taking a reddish tint for just a moment.

Eragon dry heaved.

His stomach had nothing more to give.

Trembling.

Standing.

He took the sword into his hands once more.

His clothes were shredded. Hanging on only just. The belt had been left behind from the start.

The bonfire. The great smoking bonfire of wood and flesh sent searing waves of heat into his side. It numbed him for just a second before he turned and darted into the night.

_When you must find the lost cavern, begin your search with your first great treasure._

The though shot through his head, like a memory of a memory. It vanished into the abyss that would normally be the great star of Saphira's consiousness in his mind.

And he damned Maud.

Carvahall called.

Buried eggshells are what he searched for.

He approached and swift feet and swifter wings.

* * *

While I remember that little piece of information I never though to write down somewhere in a paticularly vivid stretch of idiocy, the last chapter translates to "_Invocation of fate and flame."_

Feel free to leave angry messages in the form of reviews, or just message me just to piss me off a little.


	21. The wrath of madness

Yeah, I'm posting. Already. The end of the world is indeed coming. I started writing on the same day I posted, and I've done neglected most of everything since.

First off, a note. If I suffer any errors in my book events, my books have gone walkabouts after I lent them out. And I haven't read them in a while, so if I'm getting events at least close, that's probably an achievement more than anything, but feel free to point them out so I can correct them.

Second... I had hoped, after such a long time, for at least a decent review/reader count after I posted. Well, I tell you now, I got an expansive amount of individual visitors in a these few days. Not hits, individual_ visitors_, on just this chapter. So lets say I was expecting to reply to a few people.

I got seven. To me, that just seems lazy. To those who reviewed, you know who you are, and I thank you once more.

...I suppose some people don't always have something to say. But I can't resist being a little disappointed.

Well, on to notes about this chapter. It isn't one of my most deeply thought ones, but what needs to happen has. Hopefully I've tied up of few loose ends and added a few twists for you all to grind your teeth on.

Heh, enjoy the chapter.

* * *

---

* * *

"Chicken."

"Coward."

_"Ignore it." _

Her voice distracted him less than he would have liked.

A boy closed his eyes, meditating for a moment. The masters had said it would help him clear his mind. He had been somewhat adept at it, but this moment was trying his patience too much.

The two others continued to glare.

"Heh, lets go. The great prodigies of Doru Areaba, just graduated, are too scared to go on a simple border run. We've got a sniveling child and a blue-blood dragon." The man sneered.

Alacalia growled.

The boy turned angrily. "Fine. If just to prove that you two run at the first sight of an Urgal."

The glares produced by the two men intensified.

"Two hours from the north tower." Snarled the second.

And they walked away.

* * *

Vanir sighed.

It had been the fourth time he had to reject Arya's entrance. Princess or not, it was neither her place nor her allowance.

Not in this treehouse.

Not now.

He laughed to himself. And certainly not while the entire structure was protected by an unknown but certainly expansive energy.

He hadn't taken the belt off, not once. So Eragon did ask, he would do. He hadn't given fealty that day for nothing. He remembered the others, how they how looked at him with such eyes. Fealty to a human, rider or no, whatever he looked like? Unthinkable. But he had. And he wore no regrets.

There had been no pause when Eragon finally woke. Vanir had tried to keep him down. He had exhausted himself quite thoroughly. The burnt smell of ozone still stuck in the forest, lingering. But Eragon didn't care. Words muttered as he unclasped the leather belt he wore and told Vanir to never take it off.

His trust had been heartfelt. The elf couldn't have refused even if he wanted to.

Perhaps the true test of him was how he paused by her side. Pausing, mutely screaming as he dug his nails into his hands until they bled. He had passed by a cupboard and pulled out a small bottle, and drank it. The whole thing. It smelled of faelnirv. Eragon had coughed and spluttered then reached under a bed and forced a sword into Vanir's arms.

He didn't even realise the rider had handed him _Naegling, _of all things, until he reached the door and paused and turned and really did scream this time just before he leapt of the side, howling for just a second before silence caught the world once more.

Vanir had only just now gotten to examining the belt, after handling the sword nearly religiously for two whole days, gently touching all those masterfully made parts of Rhunon-elda's work.

He felt kind of dirty now, for some reason.

...So, Eragon had vanished into the night. Vanir really wished he knew where the rider had went, but alas. He had even tried scrying him, but that had been worthless. All he had seen was the abyss of darkness no matter how long he tried it.

And so he now took to wandering around the treehouse, often replacing the sodden rags on Saphira's skin to help relieve the fever. Her skin paled horribly, with the exception of the thin spots of skin on her head which had turned rotten green.

The destruction of Death Cap. It was incredible.

Then again, no-one had ever seen the toxin progress. It usually meant instant death. Now, he had to see if she could survive as her blood mutated and dark things grew in her veins while the whole time her muscles were eaten away.

He had tried his best to alleviate some with his spells, but he just did not know how to do it right, if at all. Neither the words or the knowledge. He needed Eragon. Oromis. Any rider could have done this better than he.

Vanir sighed and looked out into the shadowed day. Clouds were heavy. Du Weldenvarden was slathered in gloom.

_Come back soon, Eragon._

* * *

_"Why'd you do it. You only rose to their taunts." _Admonished Alacalia.

_"Then why didn't you stop me?" _He replied.

_"I'll do whatever you want to do."_

She flicked her gaze to the side, spying two men aloft dragons a mile to the side. She hadn't wanted to fly close to them. She felt too uncomfortable in the reach of the two older males.

_"I probably should use my youth as an excuse." _

She looked at him skeptically. He was young, true, barely past manhood at the age of seventeen. But his figure didn't show it. His muscles were lean and strong, and his face spoke of experience beyond his years.

He laughed. It was a too temporary sound.

_"...I could take hits to my honour, but not yours."_

_"Don't do this for me." _Alacalia replied.

_"And you're going to tell me you weren't going to react the exact same way If I hadn't first?"_

_"...Not for me..." _She muttered in reply.

He smiled sadly. _"But for me." _He stroked the crest of her eyes softly when she turned to look at him. _"What wonders we are..."_

She nuzzled him in reply. _"Be ready. We are almost there."_

The boy-turned man brushed his hair black hair from his eyes, and drew a silver sword.

He would forever marvel at how perfectly it matched Alacalia's scales.

She dived. _"It is time."_

Beneath, none saw the eyes watching their decent. Dull horns flashed in the undergrowth for a second, and then were gone.

* * *

Madness, he deemed, was all conquering.

Once it had begun, there was no way to escape the tendrils buried in your consciousness.

Eragon's speed was undiminished as he cleared yet another grassy plain. But there was a difference in that he concentrated the whole way. Trying to hold it back the adrenaline, the anger of what he was becoming.

He didn't want to lose himself again.

He didn't want to awaken covered in blood.

But still, he should have stopped. He knew that.

To escape the trees and move faster, he had headed towards Gil'lead first. He would pass around it and go past Daret before arriving at Carvahall. He should stop there. He had intended too. After two days of running, he needed food. His stomach screamed protestations and his muscles weakened.

He didn't stop, not even a slowness of step.

Never halting, never pausing.

Who knew what would happen if even a city guard recognised him. By the time he regained himself, he could have the blood of a thousand on his conscience.

Only a tiny part of him still cared.

* * *

...No-one had suspected an ambush.

He would have bet that they'd all have died five minutes from now, in a hail of arrows, if he hadn't opened his mind to check for something like this.

He'd been stupid not to think of it before.

Too inexperienced.

Too utterly _careless._

But that didn't mean he was giving up.

Alacalia covered his back as he swung _Arget-evarini _in a bloody arc, beheading an Urgal before wounding another just in time to come up for a block against the Urgal's great-axe. His muscles, even when magically augmented, shook trying to resist the blow.

He dared not try any more magic than he already was. He was already pushing his limits holding the hail of arrows back. Alacalia strained momentarily as another wave hit and froze in mid air. The strength was coming from her. She reared back, and both rider and dragonness felt a wrench of pain as a blade was buried in her leg. She moaned, then breathed, and the Urgals before her were smothered in silver-red flame.

The boy cursed, his heart hurting and he forced himself to turn away. He continued the fight.

A roar sounded over the battle. It screamed of rage and agony.

He knew without knowing, that one of the others was dead. A moment later, the roar was cut short, and the sound of something wet hit the ground.

No-one dared to look.

_"Where is the magician?" _Came Alacalia's mental shout.

It was hopeful thinking. If there was a magician, there was a chance of survival. If not, and all those arrows were being fired by real Urgals, they were all dead.

_"I'm looking!" _He replied desperately. His mind searched, jumping from one Urgal to another, forcing them into suicide along the way, while the whole time he blocked and slashed and parried and stabbed. But nothing he did ever halted the horde.

Another pair of screams. Dragon first this time.

Alacalia shivered, his eyes welling with tears for a moment, then she shook it off and breathed flames once more.

_"...We... aren't going to make it, are we Tory..."_

He snarled mutely as he watched two more drive their own blades into their stomachs. He turned, ran and _leapt, _just in time to decapitate the Kull, _Kull!, _that was about to bury an axe in Alacalia's neck.

And that's when he saw him.

Another Kull, taller than the rest. He raised his bow, it glittered with eldritch power as waves of energy were channeled into an arrow.

The boy snarled, assaulting his mind with a brutal stab of energy, but the iron walls held solid.

And the Kull aimed.

He fought.

_Aimed._

Alacalia slashed, trampled, breathed.

_...And fired._The shining bolt pierced his wards and slammed into Alacalia's chest. She paused mid-strike, keeling slightly before she let out a great moan of pain and fell, her chest churning with blood.

_"No!"_

The Kull magician raised his bow, grinning.

Alacalia let out a whisper of flame. It did nothing, and she drew a shuddering breath.

_NO! NO! NO! NO! **NO!**_

...And the boy turned. Mindless. Soulless as he stabbed into the Kull's mind with unstoppable force. Everywhere, arrows lifted from quivers and fired.

One hundred bodies fell to the ground in a single moment.

...The silver she-dragon breathed blood.

* * *

Closer...

**_Fl-flash._**

Daret loomed in the distance, and then a second later, or so it seemed, was far behind him.

Eragon shuddered, even as he ran.

The battle in his consciousness intensified.

...

...

...He was loosing.

**_Fl-flash._**

...It was dark, and he stood in the remains of carvahall.

_Not far now._

_**Fl-flash!**_

...He stood next to the farmhouse.

The place that, for fifteen years, he had known as _home._

Nature had begun its progression.

The fields were overgrown with weeds.

Moss had claimed the house. Spiders and other little things had made its charred remains their home.

He did not disturb them, only look out into the field in thought.

Somewhere, below the green grass, lay the remains of an egg to large to ever have belonged to a bird.

Saphira's beginnings, his first great treasure, were somewhere, steps away.

* * *

"...Waise heill!"

Nothing.

"WAISE HEILL!"

He sobbed.

_"I... can't do it Cali... I... I just don't know how."_

He looked to the ground, and tears ran down his cheeks, dripping on the dirt frenzily.

Something touched his chin, forcing it back up.

Alacalia retreated her tail and nuzzled him.

_"I barely feel it. It's like... ahh... peace. It's comfort."_

A moment passes.

His tears fall silent.

_"It's home."_

She reached over and nuzzles him with her nose, even though it trails blood the whole way.

_"It's you... waiting. Everything I ever wanted."_

"I can't do it... I _won't _do it." He cried and hugged her, pressing close like he did, had, every night. _"...Not without you Cali..."_

For some reason, she smiles, even as a fresh wave of lifeblood pools from her.

_"Don't cry... I don't want you to cry for me. It hurts to watch... oh, how I feel so selfish now... but it hurts to see you hurt."_

_"I won't drag you with me... I _am _too selfish for that. I want you to find happiness withou...-" _Now, even her thoughts rumbled to a stop.

"NO! Not without you! You're everything, you hear! Everything I ever wanted or wished or even _dreamed _for. I... I won't... can't... give that all..." His tears obscure everything, and he wills his trembling muscles to hold on to her, hoping for some reason that if he doesn't let go she won't away.

Alacalia shook her head. _"...One... one last thing... my little one... ...my Tory..." _She looked at him, and as their eyes meet his tears as suddenly banished.

_"...Kiss me."_

Her silver stare wavers. Her body shudders as she tries to draw another breath.

...But she doesn't care.

_"Kiss me Tory! Kiss me like I know you wanted to. Like you wanted back then. Like you wanted to only an hour ago..."_

A moment of painful silence. _"...Kiss me like you always wanted to..."_

Even her thoughts fall to a dead whisper.

_"...Like I always wanted you to..."_

There is a moment of pause.

Misunderstanding.

Comprehension.

And he does. His lips meet hers for a long moment. He feels dwarfed, but... even now, _now,_ oh how it feels so _right_. So perfect.

He finally pulls away, and Alacalia let out a long shallow moan.

It had nothing to do with pain or bleeding or even something so trivial as the sword in her side.

_"Now..." _Her body slumps... as if she was going to sleep. _"Now... I... ...am... ... ...complete......"_

And the boy feels pain. His body aches for a moment.

Her eyes close.

"Alacalia?"

His soul starts tearing, one half of his mind dies and is suddenly empty.

_"CALI!"_

The rending is finished.

For a moment, amongst the blood and tears and death, nothing moves.

...And the silence is utter, amongst every dead heart.

Galbatorix looks up to the sky, and screams.

* * *

---

* * *

Have fun? Another chapter down.

I make only a single note here. If you thought the literacy of his scenes sucked, which is possible, I'll bequeath the knowledge that it is ...difficult... to write a bit with _new _characters without names. Especially if that bit is extended.

Heh, oh well. I wonder if that will stop people from reviewing.

-Fallen Dragonfly


	22. The perception of madness

Okay, first, a recap. Since, as some have suggested truthfully, it's been quite a while between chapters. Even longer since I posted this one... Okay, after the burning plains, Eragon, Saphira and Roran go to Helgrind. They make it in pretty easy, but then it turns out to be a huge trap. They make it out, but Eragon takes a bucket of seithr oil protecting Saphira.

Two weeks later, he finally wakes up in Ellesmera, horribly scarred. Both Arya and Saphira have been watching over him the whole time. He's told that Saphira dropped off Roran and Katrina so that they may go to the Varden. Oromis finally reveals the source of Galbatorix's power. The ability to tear at the bonds between one's soul and body, extracting immense power. It can also be used on another, creating an unstoppable killing spell however it is equally draining.

Misarable, Eragon returns to Ellesmera, but Saphira tells him to have hope. Arya spends the day in his company, leading him to confusion. He removes the scars from his body, with the exception of a dragon shaped symbol on his opposite palm to his Gedwey Ignasia. It was also imbued with a fraction of magic, to shine blue when exposed in Saphira's presence.

Eragon decides to go searching for the sword promised in Solembum's prediction. With a bit of help, he finds it. A living sword, breathing in both metal and wood. He names it Kroxis (Leafblade). The next day, Eragon returns to sparring with Vanir, but instead fights Arya, coming out victorious. Kroxis proves to have a measure of both sentience and personal power.

A bit of time passes, and Eragon and Saphira both get stronger. Subtly, their link grows, and they are faced with a strange moment or two as their consciousness' mix in each-other's minds. They discover that Vervada, Saphira's mother, was partner to Iormungr, the bonded of Vrael. Eragon finds peace that no matter what Saphira and he become, they will always have each-other, and that gives him peace.

He finally catches up with Rhunon, who is distraught that Eragon lost the last sword to Galbatorix. Maud the werecat gives him a strange prediction. Eragon and Saphira have a night to relax, faelnirv gets involved, and they both sing strange songs. The night cumulates with them both swimming in a heated pond. At some point, Saphira sees Eragon become something else, if only for a second. Something with the eyes and claws of a dragon.

At a later time, Eragon shifts again when sparring with several elf opponents. It only lasts a second, but Vanir takes note. Oromis finally falters, and sickness claims him. A funeral is had, and Glaedr leaves. Again, Saphira proves capable of distracting him from his misery.

Arya acts strangely once more, and this time, she kisses him. However, it soon turns to misery when Eragon discovers that she's using him to relive old feelings. Eventually, she snaps, saying she doesn't want to see his face again.

Vanir proves to be equally graceful and clumsy, but seems to have an insight into Saphira's life, and pities her. Saphira falls sick, then comatose, a poison she consumed a day ago finally attacking in full. Eragon curses himself, vowing never to make the same mistakes.

Ra'zac attack Ellesmera in the night, targeting the weakened Saphira. Eragon wakes with only a second to spare, and he is overcome by an anger stronger than any he has ever known. He suddenly transforms, taking a vicious half-dragon form, and proceeds to not kill but slaughter the entire attacking force. However, when he _awakens _afterward, he remembers it only partly. He also remembers that _he _referred to _himself _as another being.

However, this event gives him an understanding of what he must do next. He reluctantly leaves Ellesmera, leaving Saphira in Vanir's care. However, as he runs, the constant stress of Saphira's dilemma, and her near death in his mind is stretching his ability to cope... and his sanity. He begins to lose himself, often to his alter ego, who proves to be just as vicious to a group as slavers as it is to Ra'zac. During these times his mind falls into a trance... and he receives visions of other times and places.

...Eragon is losing himself... So far he has made it to Carvahall, following Maud the werecat's words from long ago. First, he must retrieve the remains of Saphira's egg...

Okay... official notations now. I suggest, personally, that you reread the last few chapters. Can't imagine it taking long, and they're chapters I'm very fond of, so I can at least say that you'll enjoy it... or not. Though I can't imagine you reading this if you didn't. I enjoyed rereading at the very least. If I can make a suggestion or two, check out the end of chapter 17 (minus Ra'zac blabber), and the entirety of chapters 20 and 21. The former because it has deep meaning, the latter two because they are very important to this chapter and the one following it (It may cheer you to know that chapter is already half done at the time of posting).

...And now I get to a more personal note. I'm sorry for leaving it this long. I am... I am... Whether I view this story as crap or not, fodder of my early days, I truly miss it. Missed it. Perhaps, perhaps it's time that I can be reborn in the world of fanfiction. I have the time, and for once, the happiness. For the first time four years, things are going right. That's a long time to have things constantly explode in your face, and it stung me. It was about then I stopped writing, except for rare... very rare moments.

Perhaps there is a fresh chance, a new hope to be had here. I guess we'll have to see.

...Again, I thank everyone who has stuck with me over the years. Your encouragement meant more than you can know. And to those special few... you know who you are... _Atra estemi ono thelduin, mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr, un du evarinya ono varda._

-Fallen Dragonfly

* * *

The man shivered, screaming into the sky.

Agony like none before…

* * *

In another place, another jerks awake, his limbs shaking.

Mindless.

Uncontrolled.

_...Scared._

Vrael trembled against the pre-dawn breeze.

Beside him, Iormungr shifts in his sleep, his dreams an echo against the whiplash of his partner's.

The elf breaths deeply, trying to squash the quelling agony within.

It's strong. Too strong.

…_Too real._

He doesn't even realize he's speaking the words until they're done, and he sees, looks deep into the night, and catches the glimpse of moonlight against a great form.

In another place, Vervada too, moves in her sleep, sensing… something. Her breaths come quickly, but to Vrael it brings calm.

Finally, breathing comes normally.

His heart stops racing.

In his mind's eye, one eye a shadow of himself, the other a mirror of Iormungr, trapped within a nightmare, he watches.

_**...The scream continues...**_

_**

* * *

**_

The egg.

_The egg..._

_Her._

_What remains._

As his mind looks and gazes and **SEES** his eyes caress the image of phantasmal blue.

_Broken, shattered, he sees it whole._

_Within, his gaze wanders for a moment, drawn a thousand miles to another place where he sees it. Like the sea in the night, his eyes focus. _

_He watches as a hand reaches and touches… A mind reaches out, never felt, but knowing, knowing…_

...Not yet...

_She, though she does not know of such yet, closes herself once again against the comfort of the blue._

Not this one.

_The man shakes his head, dismayed._

_A dragon looks on, watching as the failed-weak-not-rider is led away. _

_She snorts, and pulls the eggs to herself. …Tighter than normal, she decides, but does not worry. For none who should not will pass her, and that is the way it should be._

_And yet, she pulls them closer still, feeling the hollow echo rippling through Vroengard, now brushing ethereally against her spine._

_A hollow chill._

_The sleeping feel it. The lesser pull the sheets closer against the non-existent breeze. The stronger shudder in full, jerking or waking in sudden motion. The riders let it go. A few wonder… and put it aside._

_Every dragon feels the cold._

Eragon's sight snapped back, threatening to bleed.

_**...Still...**_

* * *

He doesn't even remember when he started to scream.

When he had touched her blood and felt the dying beats of her heart and more than felt but _knew, _for it was a word that he could not explain in this language or the next, that she was, is, did die.

The world seemed to tremble, as all he cared to care for splintered then scattered to the breeze.

At some point, he had looked up and fell to his knees both, and yelled-howled-screamed… again he had no word for what this was, and released-pushed-forced it into the midlight sky.

It must have been long ago.

Galbatorix's throat bled, his nails cut into his palms and the air itself shook in testament. Rain had fallen, washing away hundreds of trails of red.

It must have been so long ago.

…And then he realized, as his limbs finally gave out and he fell to the weeping earth, that he didn't care.

Not without her.

* * *

The shiver travelled up Eragon's arm quickly, violently. The shard of blue-stained eggshell fell from his grasp.

Pain. Agony magnified. It raked through him.

He didn't notice.

It was, already, too familiar to be cared for.

A moment's focus, and he gathered another shard of his beginnings.

His first treasure.

_A gaze cast back._

_

* * *

_

__

She smiled.

It was a small, coy thing, but to Iormungr, it meant the world.

He was half tempted to land and prance a little, something Vrael obtained an almost suffocatingly large amount of laughter for.

Finally, _finally, _he had her attention.

He flicked his tail lightly, pushing a low growl past his teeth as he darted over her, his wings flaring and angling with a respectable distance that was not far, but a bold mix of average and close.

She rolled her eyes and snarled back, dismissing him as she shut her inner eyelids and continued to sunbake.

Iormungr winced, his emotions flipping on their ends. He glided for only few seconds longer before coming to rest on a rocky crag. Almost instantly, he began unconsciously grinding the granite with his claws as he cursed and moped.

From Vrael, there was a drawn sigh. The dragon weakly flicked him with his thoughts, not interested in another lecture.

"_But you're going to get one anyway, aren't you." _It wasn't a question.

The ground beneath his left forefoot splintered, and he pulled it back and shifted his weight as the earth slipped away, groaning and rolling down the cliff.

Iormungr looked at his dirtied claws with distaste, and flicked another miserable glance at Vervada before again glaring at the ground.

A moment later, the ground beneath his right forefoot caved in, just a moment before breaking completely as his black talons continued to knead the ground mindlessly.

The dragon spread and flapped his wings quickly, stepping backward as his front lost the last of its leverage.

"_What did the ground do to you?" _Vrael asked, an undertone of amusement in his voice.

Iormungr snarled.

"_So, when do you think that 'I told you so' would be most appropriate?"_

"_Never."_

"_Well, it doesn't have to be me then. After all, I didn't have first hand experience like all the others who told you this was a bad idea."_

It was a painfully true statement. Even though they rarely conversed without the ancient language, Vrael always spoke in honesty. However, there was a difference between speaking facts and proving your point.

The elf was very good at the latter.

"_...I haven't been mauled yet."_

He felt Vrael roll his eyes. "_So that's your justification. You haven't been mauled. Yet._ _Then tell me when you're going to continue your little plan so I can be there to put your muscles back together before they fall off. May I also note that Lefrati is still recovering from his attempt? You should come see it in person. It's almost artistic the way she carved him up after he gave her a pass. The healers still haven't managed to remove the scarring. A visit _might,_ though I use the term lightly against the great bulwark that is your stupidity, encourage you to reconsider."_

"_She smiled at me."_

"_If the other _elders _didn't frown so heavily on gambling, I'd bet twenty silver that she was imagining just exactly how she's going to hurt you at the time."_

The dragon had no reply to that, so he busied himself licking his paw, scrubbing away the dirt to expose the glimmering chromatic surface.

"_...White dragons aren't common. And Mie'thaa'sa said I was handsome."_

The elf shuddered, then again in advance.

And sure enough, a moment later; _"...Vrael, I'm good looking, aren't I?"_

There was a sudden break in Vrael's thoughts, and it took Iormungr a few seconds to realize that the elf had begun bashing his head against a wall.

"_...Normally, I'd ignore that second bit, considering she's your mother, but she was telling no small truth. Unfortunately, diamond-skin or not, she no small prize either. Among the Wilds, she's a princess in all but title."_

A beam of sunlight angled across a gap in the afternoon's sparse cloud cover, catching his scales and radiating a rainbow of colours. Somehow though, even that failed to capture the tone of Vervada's gleaming hide.

This time, Iormungr _voice_ was strained. "_You know we don't use such concepts."_

"_But if you did, wouldn't she be?"_

There was silence.

Finally, Vrael's thoughts broke through, somewhat more subdued than before.

"_Just... consider it, okay? I don't want you to get hurt, my brother."_

"_... ..."_

"_... ..."_

"_... ...I will."_

The sunbeam shifted, and amethyst gleam of Vervada's scales filled the valley.

* * *

The last piece came away from the earth easily.

Again, in his mind, he saw it whole.

_His sight shifted, turning forward to see a boy in a burnt out glade, reaching for it._

_Backwards for a moment, and he saw Durza, dead but alive Durza, his eyes gleaming as he watched a trio of riders enter his sight. All around black arrows were drawn and…_

Back again.

* * *

Iormungr still didn't know why he was doing it.

Flowers.

He was bringing her flowers. He was fairly sure that every dragon he had encountered so far had looked at him with either confusion, disgust, or some mix of the two. And once one takes into account the size of Vroengard, that's quite a few.

Even Vrael was giving him odd looks at this point. It was almost penance, in a way, considering how often it had happened the other way around.

At least the elf was coming this time though. If all else failed and Vervada finally decided to make a trophy out of his hide, at least his brother would be there to put him back together.

…Strangely enough, even if the worst happened, he could see himself continuing his 'idiot quest,' as Vrael had more commonly dubbed it.

More than a few others were of the same sentiment. The 'idiot quest' part anyway.

A pleasant smell wafted through the air as he caught a headwind, and the smell of the flowers in the saddlebags was blown in forward.

It _was _quite nice, and at least he knew he had enough of them. Even if he wasn't quite sure just exactly how his partner had managed to procure a dozen rose bushes on short notice, nor how he had managed to fit them into some haphazardly sewn-together saddlebags.

Vrael snickered as he listened in on his thoughts. Admittedly, the dragon knew he'd only been paying attention to one thing lately. But still, he chose not to listen to him. He was focused. He had a mission. In the dragon's mind, this had to work. Incidentally, it followed the same train of thought as all of his previous plans, which stated quite clearly that every plan would work.

And then it didn't, and he stepped back, realized that it had some invisible flaw, and tried something else. The elf called him stubborn. Bah. He just didn't give in. There was a huge difference.

He angled, trimming some of the length of his left wing as he began spiralling downward. As he fell beneath the clouds, he spotted her instantly. A gleaming purple jewel, flapping lazily across the familiar canyon, a sheep in each of her forepaws. She landed roughly, dislodging them and allowing one of the two to roll several feet out of her reach.

It was, he realized, rather uncharacteristic of her. He had seen her hunt before, and she had always been nothing short of impressive.

Still, he paused, knowing better to disturb her while she ate. After sending a moment's thought to Vrael, he flared his wing once more and caught the headwind, angling parallel to the Anora River, going upstream, deeper into the unexplored depths of the spine.

Half an hour later, as he spied a herd of deer, led by a great buck, his continuing thoughts of her suddenly struck an even greater note within him. She was a good hunter, even when compared to the more skilled Wilds. …So why just two pitiful sheep? They weren't filling at the best of times. She was perhaps ten feet shorter than he, a pitiful sum when compared to his total size, and yet he could consume a herd of the runty things if he'd gone a particularly long time without. It had happened more than once.

He swooped, catching them by surprise and collecting several of the larger deer in a single pass. Flapping for a few minutes to gain altitude, he began heading back, quite liking the idea of having his meal in the grassy plateau of the canyon.

Ten minutes later, he landed, unceremoniously dumping the meat in a pile as he landed. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Vervada, still picking at the remains of the first sheep with a lack of enthusiasm. As he watched, she licked her teeth vigorously and slowly looked up at the second, as if deciding if it was even worth the effort to go collect it.

Again, Iormungr wondered.

Then, the wind shifted, blowing her scent into him with a sudden gust.

Reflexively, he closed his nostrils to the stench as it hit him. Even Vrael, despite having a greatly inferior sense of smell when compared to a dragon, started suddenly, flicking his gaze to the far distance over.

Something wasn't right. He, too, turned his gaze to the female, and looked, really looked. Instantly, he noticed the lack of the usual gleam in her hide, and as he examined her in more detail, he noticed a faint splattering of grime about her sides.

"_She's unwell." _Vrael observed.

Vervada shifted, looking over at the sheep again before forcing herself to her feet slowly. Too slowly. Her legs trembled slightly, and she panted wearily as she forced herself forward.

Suddenly, she shuddered to a stop as she ran into something. She looked up suddenly, trying to focus on the diamond-skinned dragon she had run into as he retracted his head. After a moment's pause, he lifted a leg and deposited a deer at her feet before retreating.

She watched him for a moment, and slumped to the ground roughly.

She wanted to refuse the offer. But she had neither the strength to push it away nor the will to collect her original meal. She hated sheep. The horrible fluffy things gave her hairballs and indigestion. Even now, their fur was stuck amongst her teeth and gums. Darting an eye back to the other dragon, she watched as he continued his meal, his eyes occasionally darting back to her, as if worried to be caught looking. It was then the thought of her ill-presentation returned to mind. She didn't doubt he could smell her. She rank of sweat and caked-on earth.

…It took her a second to realise that she actually cared if he saw her like this. The thought rung in her muddled thoughts for over a minute, and during that time he had abandoned caution and was watching her openly, his features a visage of sorrow.

Another second, and she realised she cared about that too.

_Persistent slave-born. _The thought lacked its usual barb. Slowly, she raised her head, meeting his eyes, and he did not look away.

_Persistent…_

Vervada lowered her gaze, her face burning unwillingly as she accepted his gift and ate gratefully.

Inside, Iormungr smiled. He half hadn't expected her to take it. He wondered if he would have himself… and doubted. He knew he was prideful, but not more than most. Among dragons, anyway. Perhaps, if it had been Vrael. Yes, he would have then. Or from before, his masters, their teachers back when he remained in this world. First-rider-Eragon, or sharp-tooth-long-tooth, among them his pride was nothing.

It was a hard thing to tell. Did this mean she trusted him enough? Or was she that far gone? Dragons did not, after all, become ill easily. Even then, disease would not kill them. They would just be weakened for a time. It was an unpleasantry he had experienced only once. Vrael had been at his side for the whole duration. It had made it infinitely more bearable.

And then he wondered. How did the Wilds deal with such things? Often, too often, they stood alone. Only kin would care for them. …Did this mean she had none?

It was an intriguing thought. He was over three thousand years old. She could not have been much younger. Or, perhaps when given that she was a female, a little bit older. Had she no-one? No brothers or sisters left? Parents that gave up and passed into the void, or retreated into eldunari?

No children? He knew, when he had begun to pursue her, that even (or when, his arrogance had said) he would not have been the first to be with her. With three thousand years behind her, she could have been the mother of a hundred nests. Certainly, for Vervada, the stormcleaver, the jewel of the Anora, the descendant of Aekvoskul, who had been the first silver-skin and the father of half their race?Surely, she would have had no shortage of chances. In beauty alone, she could have been pursued by dragons three times his age, twice his size and four times as wise.

Was it possible, that she had never taken a mate? True, dragons did not choose easily, and such bonds were only broken by death. Such a thing could occur, often even, when the Wilds fought amongst each-other. For territory, for food or to prove themselves to potential mates.

And she had taken no-one?

_None?_

Vrael shifted by his side, and Iormungr broke from his thoughts.

Just now, Vervada swallowed the last of the deer and exhaled heavily. Her eyelids drooped, the energy worn from her.

She looked up, over to the canyon-cave-nest that was her home. Slowly, her head sagged, and she turned back to look at the white dragon that was watching her, just a moment away.

The dragon sighed, and her eyelids dropped.

Her mind reached, touching another as it had not in centuries.

"_Thankyou."_

And she slept.

* * *

It is only with the greatest difficulty that Galbatorix drags himself from the dirt.

The process is slow, but it is the best of which he is able. He has sunken deep, the mud drying and cracking as the days passed. Whatever strength he had had was torn from him long ago.

In his mind, something says to be grateful. He can still breathe. It was almost not so.

And then the rest considers which spell would be best to kill himself, then and there.

_No._

Something.

_Not that._

Everything.

_You must survive._

His mind awakens.

_For me._

For her.

As she had wished it.

And if for nothing else, revenge.

Some Urgals lived. Moving away with trophies drenched in dragon blood.

He would go on.

For this.

For her.

Alacalia had not wanted his death. Even without her, she had wanted him to live on.

For her he would walk.

And he does.

For her he would travel.

And he moves.

For her he would have revenge.

And he will.

He buries Arget-evariniinto the skull of the magician as he passes. The Kull's head splits in a splash of gore.

He leaves it there.

Revenge is all he had now.

* * *

For a long moment, Iormungr was stunned. Even amongst dragons, who could not speak with their mouths but only their minds, to do so as she had done was unusual. To reach out, to bare yourself, your soul to another, it was never done lightly. Maybe she could have swung her tail or nodded her head or something similar to give thanks or approval. But she didn't. And now, even as he watched her, she gave in to sleep.

Madness! To do so outside of her nest, even more! While it was true that males favoured them less than females, all dragons would attempt to reach the place they had made their own if it could be done, for they preferred to rest there in opposition to all others. She was weakened, true, but she was only a few hundred feet away. It was insanity!

Vervada breathed in her sleep, and a faint humming filled the air. In sickness and sleep, even then, Vervada sang. All of a sudden, his thoughts rumbled to a close.

And he was reminded why he fell in love.

Vrael flicked his head, and Iormungr winced.

He'd been trying to suppress that thought. It wasn't that he hadn't wanted Vrael to know. Not entirely anyway.

It was because that whenever he thought about it, he hurt inside. His chest seemed to squeeze, pushing against an intangible wound, and he pushed it away. He needed to ignore it.

Vrael paused, and choose to say nothing.

Shaking himself to clear unpleasant thoughts, Iormungr looked over to her and then back at Vrael.

"_Can you do something about that mess?"_

The elf's gaze snapped to meet his. "Are you sure I should?"

"_Elves aren't the only ones who aren't a little vain. …Besides…" _The smell of sickness once again washed downwind. Vrael flattened his nostrils instinctively, and muttered a few words under his breath.

A spinning sphere of water rose from the nearby river, floating over to the sleeping dragon. It rolled up and down her body, only just touching, and both the mess and smell cleared. Finally, the rider flicked his palm, and the muddy orb shot away.

Iormungr took a deep breath. "_Much better." _Shifting in the tight harness, the dragon wandered over to Vervada. Turning his head sharply, he reached to the saddles strapped to his side and began attempting to open them. Though even trying using his tongue to try and sever the ties to the baggage ended up in nothing.

"_Opposable thumbs, please?"_

Like many times before, Vrael laughed to himself as he hopped to Iormungr's side. In a flurry of movement, the elf untied the bags, and began, as by his partner's thoughts, spreading them by and around the amethyst dragon. Breathing deeply, Iormungr blew them into her, amongst her paws and beneath her nose. Vrael had not been particularly keen to approach the tremendous, even if unaware, body. The possibility of white-hot dragon fire was an excellent deterrent.

…And it probably didn't help that her individual teeth were longer than he was tall.

Once again, the wind shifted, and a gust blew the smell of roses into the pair. For a moment, one long, drawn moment, Iormungr sniffs the air and smiles like the dragon he is.

He doesn't know it now, but he will forever associate that scent with her, from then on.

* * *

Back…

Or was it forward?

_He watched… watched._

_Two men walked through a great door, dragging another between them. The man's face was obscured by his helm, and neither of his captors paid any attention to the gore on his armour, stretching trails of red across the polished floor._

_On and on they took him, stretching through the corridors of dark stone. A lone ray of light catches it, and for a moment it lights up. …But then it is gone, swallowed by darkness so quickly he feels a stab of irrational fear, like the shadows are alive, waiting and hungry for a meal._

_Eragon can't explain why, but like nothing before…_

…_this place feels evil._

_Almost on cue, a man shivers as they turn another corner, and head down. Deeper and deeper into the darkness they go, the occasional torch and their own footsteps their only company._

_Finally, they come to a great door. Of its own accord, it seems, the door swings open, greeting them with great room of lavish silks and golden surfaces. There is a great tapestry of a carpet beneath their feet, and the room is lit by a thousand candles, some of which do not even adhere to the ground, instead floating one or five or ten feet in the air._

_There is no way to explain why this room feels darker than a torchless dungeon._

"_M-my lord! We bring him!"_

_Something moves. From the back of the room, a man steps up from the unfathomable shadows that resided there. Until now, Eragon had not noticed him, almost as if he was nothing but a statue, a monotony to be passed over. It is then he sees the throne, and the man lingers there for a moment before stepping forward._

_The men shudder deeply as they meet his dark eyes. Then, as if on cue, three others shift. They, too, looked for nothing but statues at their corners. Their expressions are blank beneath winged helms, and three hands grasp the hilts of three swords, not yet drawn. Like the man they protected, shadows hid their features._

_And then that man stepped forward, and he spoke in smooth, honeyed tones, greeting the man in his chambers. _

"So I finally meet you."

_Galbatorix took a deep breath as he strode forward, ignoring the two men who upheld the object as if they were nothing by flies on a wall. Slowly, he knelt down, his hand cupping the barely conscious newcomer's face in what could be called an intimate gesture._

_The man gave no reply, and Galbatorix raised his gaze just a fraction, looking beyond the captive. "Well done."_

_A flash of red. The face sneered._

_But Galbatorix took no notice as he slowly removed the helm from the man before him._

_Dark, messy hair fell out. The tapered ears of an elf pointed out beneath his bangs. Painfully, his face was lifted up to meet the king's._

Though beaten and bloodied, the face Eragon saw there was his own.

* * *

-Chapter 21 -End-


	23. The end of madness

And again... Heh... I told myself I'd wait a few days. Probably five to seven. ...Well that went well. Didn't even manage three.

I have no patience it seems. But alas... perhaps those that remain will enjoy. Here's to hoping for reviewers... cause they are the cocaine of the fanfiction world. Though, I admit, I lost many or my rights to that for taking so long inbetween. Ps for reviewers though. I will almost always reply to reviews, at least saying thanks... unless your review is unnamed... can't reply to that. On a side note, I was surprised that nobody made a ruckus over the end of last chapter. Though, indeed, perhaps I haven't given it time.

Anyway... this chapter goes around a bit... as it has been for the few last. Unfortunately, it's hitting cliffhanger area for some things, and I wish I could separate my lines by more. Read slowly, or thoughtfully, is my only suggestion.

Actually, I take that back. Anyone who still has not read chapters 20+21 recently, I strongly suggest doing so. You'll get the full value out of the Iormungr/Vervada stuff for one. More on the Galbatorix stuff too.

Ok... no more rambling. Chapter begin.

-Fallen Dragonfly

* * *

Another piece of the shell rises from the earth. Automatically, Eragon's vision doubles over itself, and he is granted a moment's comfort.

He has them all now.

In his head, he can see the egg whole as surely as he can see the pieces come together before him piece by piece, so willingly connecting as though that was the only purpose it would ever serve.

And he pauses, falling into visions and dreams once more. One in which he sees, the other in which he knows.

Like a breeze against mist, his gaze clears.

* * *

"Give me a chance! Just one chance!"

There was a sudden hush across the chamber. Many turn to their partner, asking silently. Others look on in pity.

The words are so strong, so heartfelt, so anguished. Even the most in disagreement can not help but question themselves.

Finally, one stands. His dark hair falls like a shadow over his face as he speaks, and he leans against his partner, a great gold dragon, as if to give himself strength for the words.

"We cannot. Not as you are, Galbatorix. You are a broken soul. Faded and passing quickly." The elf pauses, drawing conviction from the silence. "You are not the one who left us. Many of us knew you. You were great, one of the greatest we have ever taught, and it is only with the greatest pity we must let those hopes go. You could have been so much. In such a smaller time than most, you would have sat in this chamber, remaining as the youngest of the Svit-tera since Eragon himself, but no longer."

Oromis shook his head, meeting the eyes of the ex-rider. "You are no longer what you were. In only a month, or perhaps in truth, in but a few moments, you have changed to something indescribable. The thoughts within you, I, we, can only guess at. Anger has poisoned you. You must purge it from your mind or it will corrupt your better nature."

Silence reigned for a long moment, then another spoke, his features drawn into an uncomfortable expression. _Sorrow._

"We cannot give you your revenge, Galbatorix. You are still beyond that. I ask you, now, to stop and for but a moment, and let it go."

The boy, or was it the man at their feet, gave a sudden start. But Vrael continued, regardless. "Pause, rest, give your tribute to your closest friend, and give her the respect she deserves."

Once again, the ex-rider flinched, hissing under his breath. Only he was aware of the fresh tears gliding down his cheeks.

"…You are so eager to walk the path of revenge. But I will tell you now, it will get you nowhere. What will you do, when your vengeance is had? What will you have left?"

"…Nothing. Nothing but hatred that will not even have a direction. Little more than now, but even less in importance. It will burn you inside, consuming your entire world until there is nothing but a hollow shell which you hide within. No, Galbatorix. No, I cannot, we cannot, let you have your revenge. Not while we still care for the brilliant, loving soul you were… and still are. There is still hope within you, even if you cannot sense it yourself." Vrael paused, a shadow of tears in his eyes. "I truly hope you can find it."

* * *

...A new day. Like any before.

And yet, something had changed.

Vrael shook his head.

Did he have something to do today?

Read the daily reports. Hope there won't be any problems that require his opinion, or even more annoyingly, a council meeting. Have breakfast. Sneak a pint of faelnirv from the kitchens. Spike Oromis's wine.

He scratched his head. Nothing seemed unusual.

Had he planned to release a herd of sheep into the nest tower again? He didn't think so. Iormungr had glared at him for a week last time after that. The dragon had been responsible to organising the clean up.

Ahh! Iormungr! He was supposed to pester him about sticking around to help her recover. He snorted, getting a disapproving glance from one of the stuffier elders who been passing by.

Then his stomach grumbled.

First was first, he guessed.

Ten minutes later, one foray down to the kitchens and half a barrel of _borrowed _liquor well hidden in his chambers, he opened his mind to contact his partner.

It took a few moments as his mind cast outwards. It became harder and harder to contact someone as distance increased and the precise location became less forgiving. However, with his link to Iormungr guiding him, he soon brushed against the dragon's mind and found him flying south, returning to Vervada after a successful hunt. The dragon gave him a moment's notice and a cheerful greeting before returning his attention to his own steady wingbeats.

After what seemed like a few seconds later, Iormungr dropped into a slow dive, slightly off balance by the four deer he was carrying in his forepaws. Still, he managed to land somewhat gracefully, an effort that strained him. Completely unnecessary, Vrael also noted, unless you were doing your very best to impress someone. Like Vervada, who was weak and still recovering from the vicious illness. Or so Iormungr claimed. The rider could see from his partner's eyes as easily as his own, and it was true, she had taken weeks to get back her strength, even with the dragon doing everything for her. That was something she accepted ruefully, but she was indeed much stronger now, strong enough to look after herself by far. Vrael was rather expecting her to gore him for continuing to annoy her.

And yet, as the rider watched, Iormungr strolled forward and placed two deer before her, the product of the fifth hunt in a week, and she took it without pause.

Instantly, Vrael tripped on the stairs he had been climbing, hitting his head hard.

Had he seen that? Was he dreaming? Was Iormungr dreaming?

_By the chipped-tooth, had he missed something?_

And then, something happened to stop his thoughts completely.

She reached out and touched his mind once more, expressing her thanks in a string of feelings.

Iormungr's eyes widened.

Vervada averted her gaze, blushing.

Vrael made no effort to lift himself off the floor.

Something passed between them.

Vrael felt an echo of something immensely powerful.

It was like… like meeting yourself. She had been hesitant. Shyer than he could have expected by far... but in that moment he was reminded of when he had first met his partner. When Iormungr had first touched his mind and they _met _one another, the feeling... it had been no different.

Somehow... some way... they were more like each other than most bonded pairs he'd met, and they were only beginning to _talk_!

And... already... they knew that.

He watched, a silent observer as Iormungr gently reached forth and touched her mind.

She didn't resist... instead, she welcomed him in.

Vrael had to remember to breathe.

A moment later, she felt something. Her thoughts brushed against his, not Iormungr's, and she retreated from the touch. Her eyes widened, and then, suddenly, she would not meet _their _gaze.

Iormungr froze, his mind churning.

...But then Vrael saw no more. He was, suddenly, welcomed with the return of his own senses as he shut the walls of his mind.

...It hadn't been an action that required thought. But he couldn't tell if it had come from him or Iormungr. She had been scared... no... not scared, uncomfortable.

Not around him. Not a rider.

Instinctively, he had broken contact with his partner.

For a moment, he couldn't even figure out why. And then he knew.

It would be a long time before he got off the floor.

His mind raced as he tried to comprehend this little thing... this little thing that changed everything.

But despite his attempts to reason it, they would not matter, because he would never escape one fact.

...Though she was like Iormungr, she was also like him.

* * *

_Saphira..._

Eragon doesn't know why, but thinking of her grants him clarity. For a moment, the _other_ retreats, and his mind is his own.

_Forward._ It whispers.

Eragon wrapped the pieces of _her _egg in the remains of his tunic. He is bare-chested now, almost naked entirely. It isn't until he realizes the green of his skin, the dark sharp scales there, that he understands why he's not cold.

For some reason, neither thing bothers him.

_Go to the beginning..._

His vision doubles over for just a second, and again he sees Vervada in his mind's eye.

_To where __**we**__ must be._

And he does.

* * *

She lies in the middle of the meadow. Her cave is close by. Yet, she makes no attempt to go to it. He sits close by. Closer, to be honest, than is probably safe.

They are alone.

Nobody approaches Vervada's nest unannounced. Not even close by. Except him.

It's true, he figures. She _is _a princess among dragons. The more he dwells on it, the truer it seems. He'll never admit that to Vrael though. The elf is right far too often.

She breathes deeply. He tracks her breath without thinking. For a moment, he wonders when all his thoughts became about her.

Exhale. She smells of roses. Not the kind he had gifted her with... this scent is her own. It's sweet, and it fills his lungs pleasantly.

...And then their eyes meet. He doesn't know why it happens, nor does he care if this is the moment she finally decides to end his annoyance. He is with her now, and that is enough.

...She moves. He reacts. Suddenly they are both in the air. She is ahead of him, gaining height swiftly. He beats harder against the wind, and suddenly he darts over her head. It is barely a second later that she is at his side again, less than another second and she is at the other side. She spins on the wind, her spins turn into flips and she nips him on the chest then the tail in less time than it takes him to turn to face her. Her eyes gleam at him, her skin flashes brilliant amethyst, and suddenly she is ahead of him again and roses fill his lungs once more.

She was not a princess. He was wrong about that. In the sky, she was a _goddess._

Vervada looked back over her shoulder for just a second, and could swear she smirked at him and then she flaps against the wind, stronger than he could _imagine _doing, and she shoots into the sky. He keeps up only just by staying in the slipstream behind her.

Higher and higher... they break the clouds as an afterthought. The sky begins to go dark as the atmosphere gets thin.

And then suddenly she's gone. He barely has time to turn as she slams into him, not harshly, and they go into freefall.

There is no space to fly, but gravity provides freedom. She is close, too close.

And they are very, _very _alone.

Her legs grip his, her tail entwines him. He can feel her chest. Her scales glide lightly along his. He can feel her heart, and it races.

It isn't alone.

His breath stops when he realises she is nuzzling him. Her face touches his, then her spines tickle his chin. She wraps herself around him, and her neck is pressed gently against his teeth.

She is absolutely vulnerable in this moment. She knows it.

She also doesn't care.

A low rumble begins in her throat, and she begins humming. It's new... he suddenly realises he's been around her long enough to know her songs. Songs she shares with none else. It's a new song... he knows it's for him. And then he realises that he's been blind all along.

And then her mind touches his, and all thoughts leave. He doesn't have to say anything. Neither does she. Her touch is gentle, and he welcomes her in his thoughts.

Far away, Vrael curls against a bed and cries tears of joy.

Iormungr doesn't know how long they were there. Entwined, falling from the sky, and neither cared about the world outside from what they felt from each-other. Only once does she pause, but then he looks and smiles and nuzzles and _gives_ it to her, and she knows all that he is.

Words of meaning, words of power. For her, he does not hesitate.

They both move at the same time, as the world comes screaming towards them. They push, twist, and then fly on swift wings as they dance around the other, loosing speed before finally landing on the great rock that is her... _their _home.

And as she looks back at him once more, her tail brushing softly between his legs behind her, she thinks of what he has just told her.

...He is many things... but, they all entwine around one.

A single word that most defines him...

His teeth meet her tail, and he playfully flicks it upward. She, in turn sweeps it once again past his toes... and then she walks forward, leading him into _their _home.

He may be arrogant, he may be a rider's slave, he may annoy her to the end of her patience... but...

Ancestors help her, she loved him.

* * *

A moment's pause, and the woman clutches as his tunic.

Her eyes are wide, the spell he cast on her burns more than the pain ever could.

She gasps for air, and comes up short.

A black sword is buried in her heart. She's dead, she just doesn't know it yet.

There is a anguished cry in the background. He almost stops at it, its familiarity.

Almost.

Another moment, and then she slumps, and Galbatorix kicks her off the sword.

He looks nothing like the man he was just a year ago. This man is now one of shadowed eyes and dark edges.

The change goes much further than the outside. This man does not pause at death, does not remorse.

"...You've grown stronger." Red eyes glint in the darkness, appearing from nowhere.

"No, just wiser..." Galbatorix's is soft.

"I disagree. I taught you well."

"You taught me _nothing _of what you intended, Durza. I was always this strong... I just didn't think enough."

The shade's eyes narrowed. "I disagree... without me, you wouldn't have the perception to sneak into Illeria and kill this girl under the rider's noses. Without me, you wouldn't have had the strength to fight and kill an elder before he could even think of raising the alarm. You want proof? A year ago you missed half a tribe of Urgals in sparse bushland, and couldn't fight them without sacrificing everything else!"

Galbatorix roared, and he spun, dark blade flashing in the gloom. Durza only just managed to parry the blow that would have speared his heart. **"Do not speak to me of that! I was always strong enough! I will take out my revenge with or without you!"**

His voice suddenly became low... and dangerous. "And if you disagree, _master, _I will take your head, here and now!"

He turned, almost goading the shade to attempt it. But it knows better. It snarls, but stays its hand.

"Come, Shurikan."

The young dragon, barely older than a few weeks, howls at his partner's death. But he obeys. He cannot help but obey. And by the time he can, it will be far too late.

Galbatorix hand burns at the dragon's touch, but he does not flinch. Pain, too, is nothing to this man.

...A door swings open, and light floods the room.

A man stands at the door. A dark grin is on his face, pride in his step, _misery _at his side.

It has begun.

* * *

Eragon gasped for breath, for he knows now.

... Iormungr is many things... but, they all entwine around one.

A single word that most defines him.

A word that could not be written. A meaning that had been forgotten until there were no way to forget.

Iormungr.

Guardian.

_Kuthian._

_

* * *

_

* * *

-Chapter 23 -end-


	24. A time of sadness

Five months. Well, I'd say inspiration is a bitch, hell I'll say that anyway, but this is all my fault. I'm sorry it took so long. Days bled into weeks, weeks into months. Again though, entirely my fault. Like most times it seems, this chapter lay half finished for those months. You'd think that'd be more encouragement, but apparently not. Instead, I have a reader known as _storylover789_ for prodding me into action. To all who enjoy this chapter, feel free to direct praise that way, 'cause I don't deserve it.

This next part, I admit, was written in my author's notes back then, so bear with it. -I keep expecting questions over my chapter ending or something... I do end them on dramatic highs. Hell, the last two have been shining examples. But ah well. Suppose it's my fault for taking forever and losing most of my reader base. I think I replied to everyone's reviews after last chapter. I left it a little too long and have forgotten who I replied to. For those I missed, my most sincere apologies.

Finally, to the story, this arc is almost wrapped up.

Hope you've enjoyed my view of the past.

* * *

Chapter 24- -Begin-

* * *

With the final vision, Eragon's mind clears.

_Kuthian._

He cradles Saphira's eggshells in his arms. He mutters a word, and they are sent away in a flash of light. He knows where to go now, and he can't be weighed down. He removes his belt and uses it to strap Kroxis to his back. He doesn't want it bumping against him as he runs.

Then he does run. Fast, green scaled legs moving faster than elf flesh ever had. He folds his wings against his back almost out of habit, even though he's never done it before. He takes a deep breath, and air runs past a sharp layer of teeth. Kroxis, thankfully, fits in well against the line of spines on his back.

And he runs. It's not far, not from Garrow's farm. It's ironic actually, that Saphira's hatching place would be so close to her birthplace. He wonders for a second, whether that was why her egg went so far astray when Arya had tried to send it, so long ago.

After all, her birthplace was in the Spine. That was where he was to go now.

As he ran... he remembered. Not visions of the past, no longer. Instead memories he didn't know he had.

* * *

Vrael parried, ducked then twisted. He stood at the top of a tower. The winds of Vroengard blew strong today, but he paid them no heed. He moved, and the wind tore at him again, but still he parried with ease.

The forsworn, _Kialandi, _snarled and redoubled his attack, but the Vrael seemed untouchable.

The elf was too far above his skill. He knew, and it sorrowed him, that this would be the second of the betrayers he would kill today.

Above him, Iormungr had no such regrets. He fought a dragon, one of maybe thirty years. But Iormungr, too, was much too skilled in his age. He was also much larger. The dragon dived past the other in mid air, and a white foreleg lashed out, crushing a wing. The _oath-breaker _fell from the sky with a splash of blood and a scream of pain. Iormungr roared in triumph, but it was cut short.

The trapdoor of the tower opened, and a man drenched in blood stepped out. Behind him, a black-scaled dragon shot out of the sky and landed on the marble roof.

Galbatorix grinned, even as Vrael parried another blow and drove _Brightfang _into the Kialandi's chest.

As Kialandi fell dead, Vrael withdrew his arm and shook the gore of his sword, exposing the glittering diamond-metal once more. Looking up, he drew a deep breath and then shook his head in sadness. Behind the elf, Iormungr landed. He moved astride his partner, and glared at the two silently, red and white flames licking his nostrils.

Then Galbatorix surprised him by sheathing his sword. He walked across the platform, slowly, half way across. Almost within range of Iormungr's claws. A small jet of flame shot from the dragon's nose, but he was still. Then Galbatorix opened his arms in a gesture of friendship. "Atra estemi ono thelduin, Vrael-elda."

Vrael just shook his head once more. "What did you intend to accomplish by this, Galbatorix?"

The man just smiled. "A change. It is time for a change. Let us break down the old barriers. The land has stood divided for too long!" He spoke smoothly, enticingly. "Let us unify, and cleanse the darkness from this world!"

"A change... unity? How are we to be unified in fear?"

Galbatorix shook his head this time. "Fear? Not in fear. I want to eliminate fear. The time of Urgals rampaging and killing is past! Let us be done with them. The time of elves hoarding their secrets and power is past. The time of humans, fighting and killing in anger and greed, IS PAST! The time of magicians, feared and mistrusted, not using their powers for the good of all, **IS PAST!** ...The only reason this must happen, the only reason I fight, is because there are those that oppose this vision."

"And when we _unify,_ when we all come together for the greater good, who is to decide what is the best for all? Who is to _rule. _You? Do you think you are wise enough to make decisions for all?"

"Me? _SHUR'TUGAL! _Would you deny that we are wiser than the rest? Would you deny, that too many have not trained their minds right? Do you remember the old training, how we are taught to debate? How we would reason out our choices, explain them? Would you deny, that this is a vision worth fighting for?" He extended his arm, his hand held out as if to take Vrael's in his own. "Join me, Vrael-elda! Use your wisdom for the good of all, as it always should have been!"

The elf looked at him with only the greatest sadness. "You are blind, Galbatorix. It is a vision which can never be. For what is within all of us, that which you seek to destroy, is also within you. You claim to wish for my advice, for unity... but you will never be anything, want anything but that you be on top of it all. There is a darkness in you now. Do not deny it, for I see it in you, like a fire in the night. The love within you has become sadness. All of your sadness has become anger and hatred. Vrael stared into his eyes, and felt tears pass down his own. "I beg you, Galbatorix. Stop this madness. Stop it before it consumes you completely. There is still hope for you, I know it! Fight the darkness, fight for hope, fight for the love that I know you still have! Fight it for Alacalia, fight for her, instead of burying her memory under a mountain of blood and rage!"

Galbatorix's face switched in an instant. He drew his sword in a blink of an eye, and crossed the space between them just as fast. "Don't you dare speak of her! It's because of you and the riders that I lost her! I will not relent!"

Vrael blocked the sword that would have removed his head, and the two began a deadly dance of blades. Above, Iormungr and Shurikan took to the skies. The diamond skin-dragon somehow only just larger the other.

Vrael spun and stabbed at Galbatorix, who parried and swept _Voidbiter_ in a murderous arc. The elf ducked and stabbed low, and Galbatorix leapt back, and they stared at each-other down the lengths of their swords. Just a moment later, the both charged forwards again, and their blades locked between them.

"You are mad, Galbatorix! Though it pains me to do it, like a rabid dog, you must be put down!"

The man spat. "You will not have me! Anger has given me clarity, and revenge, strength! I have beaten the pain, but you shall not. I assure you, Vrael-_elda, _that you shall know my pain and more before you die!"

Vrael pushed against Galbatorix's strength, but neither could shift the hold. "You have nothing to use against me, save what you have already done. The loss of my brothers and sisters, elves and humans and dragons all, pains me more than anything I have ever felt. But it will not break me! You have not the tools!"

Galbatorix smirked this time, evilly and without remorse. "No? Not even ...Vervada?"

Vrael's face drained of blood. In the sky, Iormungr missed a spin, and Shurikan drew a long bloody line across his chest. He didn't even notice.

"Did you think I did not know? It is almost the stuff of legends! A pair of dragons so close that they are the things of tales told! A rider who shirks his duties to see his partner along! Did you think that I would not guess? Surely you've noticed that of the thirteen, only nine are here today? The forsworn are scattered, destroying the riders wherever they reside! But for you, my revenge against the one who denied me a second chance, is being taken by Formora! Today, she will die, and you shall know the pain I have!"

The elf paused... and then, he knew what he must do.

Without consideration, without thought, he _pushed. _The energy passed the wards, smacking Shurikan into the roof of the tower.

_Ganga! _

Iormungr paused, taking a deep breath despite the pain of his injuries.

_Ganga! You want to! I want you to! Ganga!_

_I cannot! If I go, you will..._

_Ganga! That doesn't matter. She's worth that! I'm worth that! Ganga! Ganga!_

The dragon's eyes met his for a swift moment, and then he turned, shooting into the horizon with a speed above the usual magic.

Vrael's sword drooped as he stared into the sky, Iormungr's distance pulling at their connection. A great sadness rose up in him... and he whispered something through what remained.

_...Tell her... tell her that I love her._

For a second, he knew the dragon had looked back.

Sorrow.

Love.

Hope... against all.

_Tell her yourself._

And then he was gone.

Galbatorix snarled. Shurikan's eyes were thin as he raised himself from the ground, and he bared his teeth. The elf barely noticed either.

Vrael took a deep breath and raised Brightfang high. All traces of compassion were gone, replaced with a furious determination.

"Let's play..."

And he charged.

* * *

Vervada curled against the wall of the cave. Her nest lay beneath her, the eggs, her eggs, warm against her chest.

Like so many times lately, she was not alone. This was for a different reason however, and not one she liked as much. Just outside the lair, dragons lay in her meadow. Young, old, male, female. There were twelve there. It should have been a pitiful gathering, except it wasn't. She knew, deep down, that this was a large piece of what was left.

She tried not to think about it. _So many dead. _The betrayer's rampage seemed never ending. With so many gone, with the eldunari stolen, lost to their world, they had gathered at the old bloodlines. With _her._

Normally she would not have let them close, but she would not, could not refuse now. They looked to her for guidance.

How could she tell them she was just as lost? She hid in her cave, not from fear for her, but for others. Her eggs she clung to tighter than she ever had. To her thoughts...

She prayed to the winds that they bring Iormungr to her safely.

...A scream was loosed from outside. It was a low, piercing keen, and she turned to the mouth of the cave to see a youngling, barely a year old, fall from the sky in a spray of blood.

Above him, like a demon in the clouds, a great brown dragon flew. A spot of black she recognised as a rider sat on his... _its _back. The man raised a hand, and beams of light shot from it. Four more dragons fell from the sky as the energy tore their chests open. A roar sounded, and the others rose to the attack.

Vervada felt a great heat in her chest, rising up to furious anger. Without pausing to think, she jumped to her feet and leapt from the cave into the sky.

The blood raining around her only strengthened her resolve. She didn't wonder if it was possible, she just knew.

This betrayer would die.

* * *

Vrael slashed, quicker than the wind. Galbatorix could only just block it as he slid back from the recoil. Shurikan stepped over his rider and swept a massive foreleg across the ground, but Vrael just jumped and jumped and _slashed!_

The dragon screamed, and hot blood poured from his neck, splashing the two riders. Galbatorix began to mutter a spell, but Vrael was on him again, and he abandoned it in a desperate effort to survive as the elf struck like a man possessed. He dodged and jumped and struck so quickly that their attempt at flanking him failed as he began to turn their attacks into the other.

For a moment Galbatorix felt fear. Fear of this man... a man who had been skilled even before he had three thousand years to temper it. Even in his fantasies, he would never have imagined that the even the leader of the riders, a man who seemed so light-hearted, so without worry, could become _this._

He had been sorely mistaken.

Again, he parried and ducked as Brightfang cut through the air where his head had been with a great wail, then stabbed as Shurikan attacked at the same moment. Vrael jumped, landing on the dragon's striking paw, then jumped again a moment later struck at its neck for the second time.

Blood splashed, and Galbatorix cursed vehemently as he sprinted forward and ignited his soul-chains_. _The amount required to heal this was so far beyond human or rider, and his thoughts became clouded as he muttered the words. His vision slipped for a second as his soul was loosened, but it returned a moment later, and Shurikan's throat was repaired.

It was then that he drew on the muddled energy a second time, and he felt a great rush of power in his muscles. Looking at the elf once more, he darted forward and was rewarded with a look of surprise on Vrael's face as he finally matched his insane speed.

Galbatorix sneered. "This isn't over yet... master."

Vrael's expression became one of calm. "It doesn't matter. I've bought enough time." With that remark, the elf muttered, and then disappeared in a flash of white fire.

* * *

Eragon weaved through the trees. He was close now. He could feel it. His instincts told him that this place was to be reached through the air, but he ignored them, moved them to the side as he dug out the details he needed. He had not the strength to fly now. Not with a week without food or water or sleep. Even this body was weakening. It had sustained him far and beyond what it should.

Still, he could climb. The cliffs were unclimbable, but the trees rose higher. It was easy enough for him, with a jump and short glide, to make it to the top. He ascended the trees quickly, though it was a snail's pace in comparison running speed, he welcomed it gladly. The momentary reprieve sent a wash of cold numbness down his legs, cooling the burning pain.

A few minutes later, he a high branch of the wooden monolith, took a deep breath, and leapt. Eragon stretched his wings and glided through the foliage. He feels the slightest twinge of magic, small but recognisable, and realises it is helping to hold him in the air. It feels old, but not worn. Eragon realises suddenly that this is what dragons know. The constant, limitless magic that sustains them. He wonders, for a split second, if in this moment... this _form,_ he would be able to wield dragon-fire, the second of two.

Suddenly, he breaks the canopy, and touches down into a grassy clearing. It smells of... roses. Flowers bloom everywhere, a riotous cacophony of colours, but they all smell of roses.

Then Eragon looks up, and what he sees takes his breath away.

A great rock lay ahead. A spiky cliff it's front, leading up to a cave, just in sight.

However, it is the cliff that stuns him, for on it is...

* * *

The rider and dragon spun in the air. Sword and claw lashed out, and another dragon fell from the sky.

Vervada tore through the clouds with a scream of rage, slamming her hide into the brown dragon. Her claws bounced of them however, stopped moments before by an invisible shield. The rider attacked her back, but she pushed off them, and all of a sudden she flipped in the air and was at their other side, a whirlwind of claws and teeth.

The dragon flapped hard, trying to escape her, but she was wherever he turned, raking at the shields covering him. The rider spoke, and she felt a great weight at her side, bludgeoning her away. The brown dragon gasped at his moment of freedom, pushing hard against the wind to regain the height he had lost. Another hard push, and he glided, just managing to avoid the barbed stones that lay on the cliff below Vervada's cave.

And then, the dragon princess was attacking him once more.

She raked his underside, letting off sparks of magic-light, and then she twisted and he barely had time to figure out just _how she had done that _as she suddenly shot above him, her mouth closing over his rider.

Their visions blurred as Formora's magic struggled to resist her. The world darkened slightly... but the magic held. The rider snarled, and this time she didn't have time to get away as his sword cut deeply into her chest. His vision blurred once more from the effort of empowering his muscles, and for a moment he _forgot. _He tried, against everything, to complete the task he was given. Reaching deep into himself, he grasped onto the sparse remains of the chains that held him and _burned._

Vervada recoiled as magic exploded against her front, tearing at her like a thousand claws. For a moment she lurched in the air, her strength finally broken. But then she spread her wings once more and against the blade buried in her chest, against her burning, _bleeding _muscles and half blinded eyes, she raised her horned head to glare into theirs.

And through their darkening visions, they saw her stare down at them with all the vengeance of a god. Quick as a whip, her claws raked the air. At long last, the rider's shields held no more, and he was torn asunder. She snarled, and ignored the dragon's pitiful attempts at dodging as he dug into his back and _pulled._

Both dragons spiralled in the air, darkness clouding the brown dragon's mind as he wondered why the cliff was flying at him so quickly.

* * *

A flash of white fire, and Vrael stumbles. His body aches suddenly as his energy is sapped. He drops to his knees, and the tiles catch him.

His vision blurs slightly... he feels so tired. So tired from the spell, so tired from everything. He can barely make out the mosaic on the floor. It's a dragon with a rider on its back. They are fighting... something.

Edoc'sil. He remembers this. The rider is he. The white dragon is Iormungr. He remembers this. This was from so long ago. They looked younger then, smaller maybe. Iormungr hadn't found her. They hadn't fallen in love yet.

Then, suddenly, a flash of silver-tinged black flame explodes in the middle, burning away the image. And, wearily, Vrael raises his head to see Galbatorix once more.

"I must say... it was a good enough plan." He chuckled. "But it was no use against me. I was well prepared for those who would try and run. The work of just a few made it easy to track you all. Oromis really shouldn't have taught Morzan that trick..."

Vrael breathed deeply, leaning against his sword. "Shurikan cannot follow though..."

Galbatorix smiled. "And so he cannot... yet at least. If I had not had the abilities I have, I admit I would not have survived the trip. But mine are the type to grow as the go on. You however... it is quite amazing that you were able to make it at all, especially after all that you expended earlier."

The elf smiled weakly. "Glad to impress..."

Galbatorix gave a mock-bow. "I try my best to be a good audience. However, it is time for this play to come to a conclusion."

"Don't suppose I'd be able to convince you to wait for the sequel?" The barest hint of a grin pulled at his lips.

Again, the man laughed. "I shall miss your wit, my old teacher." And in a split second, he covered the distance between them, sword flashing with dark flames.

Vrael brought up his sword and his arms trembled as he resisted Galbatorix's inhuman strength. Somehow, he forced his tired body to move, and he pushed back and spun Brightfang in a blurred flourish, pulling Galbatorix's sword arm to the side as he then darted in to bury his white sword into his stomach.

Galbatorix did not stagger.

Galbatorix did not flinch.

Galbatorix did not _bleed._

The man raised his dark eyes to meet Vrael's, and he chuckled once again, his breath coming out uneven. "You should have known that by now, I'd be a little bit above _that."_

One final time, Galbatorix raised the burning black blade.

As it soared towards him, Vrael closed his eyes and whispered.

"_Iormungr... I'm sorry."_

* * *

"**_No!"_**

"**_No no no NO!"_**

The white dragon howls... agony overlaid by another. He lands harshly by his home. Their home. The land is devastated, his doorstep covered in dragon blood, ally and not. The roses he once planted for her destroyed. He can feel it all... the pain is unbearable, and yet it does not compare to what he feels when a part of him begins to die.

He howls, and he claws the earth, for he cannot withstand it. But then he stands, and takes to the sky for one more moment. He must know, because against all hope she was not in that clearing. But as he reaches the cave and he can see and smell and even hear the flow of lifeblood, and it is more than enough to make him break. Another moment, and he is beside her.

Vervada. Storm-cleaver.

The love of his life.

She opens an eye, a bloody, destroyed eye, and she looks at him. There is something he sees in it... relief. He is alive. Her eye flickers to his shoulders... at the empty saddle, and back, and then it is filled with sorrow, and then regret.

He realises that maybe she had understood them better than he had thought, and it increases the agony.

Her other eye opens, and it stares at the ground.

Broken eggshells lay between her paws, their contents long spilled.

...And finally, he feels tears run down.

"_I... I... ...I..."_

"_It's okay." _Somehow, she manages to be soothing.

She bleeds. _"I love you."_

And he cries. _"I failed you... I am no Guardian... I've protected nothing."_

Vervada slowly raised her head... and slowly, desperately, she nuzzled him. _"You've done as best you could... more than I could hope for. More than I deserve. ...I love you..."_

Her head droops, and he darts under her, supporting and comforting and loving as best he could. He wants to tell her that he loves her beyond reason. He wants to tell her that despite being bloodied and broken she's still the most beautiful thing he'll ever see. ...But he cannot find the words.

"_Our time is passed, my Kuthian. It is time for us to go beyond... to watch from the stars. To rest until our daughter returns."_

"_He..." _Iormungr lets out another piercing howl. _"Vrael said he loves you."_

She only just manages to arrange her thoughts... and says the one thing she regrets because she did not say it sooner.

"_...Love... him... t..." _Her words go silent.

"..._And... ...I... I... love you too."_

One final time, she nuzzled him.

"_...Love... ...you..."_

...Everything went silent.

Iormungr let out a great roar. The cave shook, as though in an earthquake. The air grew heavy and thick... compressing until flames burst into existence. Wild surges of magic pulsed from the white dragon, as has he turned and let out an even greater roar into the sky.

Suddenly, the whole cave erupted in a burst of flame. Iormungr let out one final sound as his flesh ignited... burning and disappearing into mist, leaving only bones behind.

And then... all was silent once more.

* * *

...A great corpse lays impaled against the cliff face. A dragon, spars of stone shot through it's back, and a rider that lays in two pieces, one in the saddle, another too smashed against the rocks.

They should have rotted, worn away by the passage of time... but they are not.

Eragon steps across the meadow, tracing his way around arrays of flowers grown stronger than he could have imagined. He is reminded, deep down, of how dragons are connected to Alagaesia, and how death is as much a part of life. The scenes provide a bitter contrast, and a dire warning.

He eyes the top of the cliff as he reaches it. The cave lies ahead, and after a moment's pause he begins climbing the dragon. Its spines forming perfect handholds as he ascends.

In the corner of his eye, Eragon can see that this dragon is missing his knuckles.

It takes mere moments, but it feels like hours that he climbs. And then he stood at the top, at the beginning of everything.

Vervada's cave. Her nest.

_Though, that title had been extended these days..._

Iormungr's rock.

_When the time comes, and your power is insufficient... go to the rock of Kuthian... to open the vault of souls._

* * *

Chapter 24- -End-


	25. The vault of souls

-Chapter 25 -Begin-

* * *

The cave opened up within, easily enough to hold a dragon, even an _old _one, within. For a moment, he feels nostalgic.

To Eragon, somehow, it speaks of _home._

And then, he sees the brown sword impaled in the wall to the side, and it all comes crashing down. The metal of the sword is like mud, though it still holds an old gleam. It was undamaged, even though Vervada had to use her teeth to remove it from her chest.

_Oaths betrayed, souls killed, eggs shattered!_

And then he steps forward, and can feel the crunch of rusty, stained _red _stone beneath his feet.

_Blood everywhere. Murderers!_

Eragon doesn't look at the sword again. The visions are no longer visions. They are memories, and they burn like molten steel. He looks ahead, anything to look away, and the slightest flash of light reaches his vision. He steps forward, and it gets brighter. At the heart of the cave, it is lit from within.

The walls... glow. Soft white, shifting into chromes of rainbow light. And in the centre of it all... against a wall that comes sooner than Eragon remembers, are the bones of a great dragon.

Only Iormungr's bones remain, and yet he stands tall, claws against bones that somehow all connect, frozen... threatening. The teeth are bared at him, a silent snarl.

_Guardian._

And then the ground creaked, the bones rustled, and the great skeleton burst into life.

Eragon only just drew Kroxis in time to block the claws that shot towards him. He shouldn't have. The strength of the blow smashed against his defences, and Eragon released his sword and dodged a moment before dying upon it. Kroxis flew across the chamber and was buried up the hilt in the wall.

And then Iormungr turned, and Eragon barely escaped being bitten in half. He rolled beneath the bone-dragon's legs, seeking safe refuge, only to have it drop to the ground in reply. He rushed to the side, but the ribs smashed against him like a club, and he bounced across the floor and hit the wall hard.

The dragon stood, spinning as it did so, and Eragon jumped as its tail whipped where he had been a moment before, cleaving great grooves into the wall. He sprinted across the chamber, leaping sideways as claws raked the ground, and he moved towards its neck.

Then a great flash of white illuminated the chamber, sourced from its throat, and Eragon barely dodged as a plume of dragon fire shot past him.

And then the claws shot out once more, and he could not dodge as a great paw slammed him against the wall.

Everything spun, but Eragon could just make out the dragon snarling mutely at him as it pressed harder against the stone, and Eragon felt his ribs breaking.

"_Ku...thian."_

The dragon paused, and Eragon regained his breath.

"Kuthian... Ior...mungr. Please... stop. _Eka au fricai un Shur'tugal!"_

Iormungr stopped pushing, but his claws fanned out, trapping him thoroughly all the same. Eragon winced in pain as he felt the splintered ribs shift, but he dared not utter words of healing.

The dragon lowered its head and looked him in the eyes.

The rider took a deep, painful breath. "I... am Eragon... partner... to the dragon Saphira..."

_**You have come.**_

A voice shook in Eragon's head. Strong like a mountain. Wise like a king. Soothing... and undoubtedly female.

Again, Iormungr paused, and he released Eragon, slowly lowering him to the ground. And then he stood back.

And the back wall of the cave crumbled to dust.

Beyond... was like something from a dream. Like a sudden wall, everything turned misty... insubstantial even. The area was lit by werelights, barely visible but somehow bright against the gloom. And in the centre of it all, untouched by blood or wound, lying as if asleep, _perfect, _was Vervada.

Over her, hung a werelight of pure amethyst, the strongest of them all.

_Come... little one._

Eragon flinched... but he moved forward, standing just before the wall... his senses telling him not to go further. He knew... somehow he knew, just like he knew that if he extended his senses he would only find a great void before him, that if he took another step he would not survive it. Or, rather, that if he did his magic would leak away and his soul would escape his body, and move beyond.

_Little one..._

This time... the voice was calming. He felt a great calm as the mind touched his, soothing his aches... accepting his pains. Sorrow... Joy... He felt it... her... reach into his memories, searching for one thing... one thing... and then she found her. Eragon did not resist as the part that was Saphira lit up in his mind, and he felt her submerging herself in them... reliving things Eragon was surprised he remembered so well.

* * *

_...Suddenly a crack appeared in the stone. Then another and another..._

* * *

_...Something brushed against his consciousness, like a finger trailing over his skin. He felt it again, but this time it solidified into a tendril of thought through with he could feel a growing curiosity..._

* * *

_...The dragon came down to the ground as he approached and leapt into his arms, huddling close to his chest. The cold had not harmed it, but it seemed frightened. A puff of dark smoke blew out of its nostrils. He stroked it comfortingly and sat with his with his back to the rowan, murmuring softly..._

* * *

_...A single word rang in his head, deep and clear. _

_Eragon..._

* * *

_...Are you Saphira? She looked at him with intelligent eyes. Deep in his mind he felt her satisfaction. _

_Yes._

_Something clicked in his head and her voice echoed, as if from a great distance. He grinned in response. Saphira started humming..._

* * *

_...As they levelled out, their minds began to diverge, becoming distinct personalities again. For a split second, Eragon felt his body and Saphira's..._

* * *

_...Thank you, said Eragon. He hugged her fiercely. What you did was incredible. I'll never forget it..._

* * *

_...She withdrew from his mind with a gentle touch and a whisper. I love you, little one._

_And I you..._

* * *

_...Eragon. She finally fixed one great eye on him. We are intimately linked._

_Obviously!_

_And if you pursue a relationship, with or without my blessing, and become... attached... to someone, my feelings will become engaged as well. You should know that. Therefore- and I warn you only once- be careful who you choose, because it will involve both of us._

_He briefly considered her words. Our bond works both ways, however. If you hate someone, I will be influenced likewise. I understand your concern. So you weren't just jealous?_

_She licked her claw once more. Perhaps a little..._

* * *

_...Eragon... She paused. I thought of something while I was under the influence of the elves' spell, something that I have always considered of little consequence, but now looms within me like a mountain of black dread: Every creature, no matter how pure or monstrous, has a mate of their own kind. Yet I have none. She shuddered and closed her eyes. In this regard, I am alone..._

* * *

_...Rolling upright, he grabbed the lantern in one hand, Zar'roc with the other, and surprised Saphira by crawling onto her dias and snuggling against her warm side. She hummed and dropped a velvet wing over him as he extinguished the light and closed his eyes..._

* * *

_...I fear that we coddled the Riders. If our hatchlings had been forced to care for themselves in the wild- as you were, and so our ancestors were- then perhaps they would have possessed your skill._

"_No," Said Oromis, "even if Saphira had been raised on Vroengard using the established methods, she would still have been an extraordinary flier. I've rarely seen a dragon so naturally suited to the sky..."_

* * *

_...Only one thing that can be done._

_What can be... Eragon, NO!..._

* * *

_...You are the one I love. __Saphira's tired mind broke through his thoughts, piercing his worries, his doubts... Her words soothing his troubled mind. __You are who I chose from thousands. For whom I happily went through a century of wait. The only thing this world can offer that I would give my life for, because… I cannot live without you. I love you, Eragon, never forget that. _

* * *

_Eragon smiled as his head cleared, leaving an overwhelming sense of peace in its wake. And there was something else, something he could not identify. The same thing that had been held at the edge of his connection with Saphira these past few months..._

* * *

_...This is the symbol of my devotion to you. I have the gedwey ignasia, but that only means I am a rider. This... this means I am __**your**__ rider..._

* * *

From Vervada, he again felt a stab of joy... at what he could not know. For a moment, he felt her, and he could see that she had already seen all that she looked for in him... but in her memories... everything was tinted blue.

A surge of happiness overwhelmed him, and his thoughts turned, for another moment, to Saphira... to that place within him that she dwelled.

Blue fire suddenly travelled up his arm, and he yelped.

_Be at ease..._

Fire shot up his other arm, burning cold, leaving a stretch of fine scales in its wake. "I can't!" Eragon yelled. "I can't lose control again! I've killed so many!"

Vervada stretched out her mind, wrapping her consciousness around his. The flames halted in the middle of his chest, burning silently, but healing... healing his broken bones.

_You aren't losing control..._

"What would you call this?" He demanded. "It is anything but controlled!"

_It is freedom._

Eragon's words died in his mouth. Both of his palms felt hot, and began to glow.

_You have been given a gift... a gift of freedom. It is a gift that you crafted... _Eragon's dragon palm burned bright blue. _And my daughter empowered. It is the freedom to be true to yourself... and the power to enforce your wishes._

"What are you saying... that I wanted to kill?" Eragon shouted. "That it's my nature!"

_No... your nature, as it has always been, is to protect. You are a warder... a __**guardian, **__for those you love. That desire costs... and the scars are written upon you if not upon your flesh any longer. And are you not willing to pay it? To experience any amount of pain to see those you love protected? To see Saphira... protected at all costs?_

For a long, dangerous moment, Eragon saw something in himself. A memory reflected upon black and silver fire. And he knew... if things had been different... he would have walked the exact same path. Had walked the same path, just this one came to a different ending.

"Yes..." He whispered.

And he accepted it. Stopped fighting it. Stopped fighting himself. The flames rushed over his skin, quicker than ever before. His skin was replaced by dark green scales. Claws sprouted from the end of his fingers. Talons sharpened on his feet. His vision overlayed with green.

_You are a guardian. Even if you don't know how. _Vervada again reached into him, and he felt calm. Fires rushed down his limbs, and he was an elf once more. _But you will find your way, if you follow your heart. ...Just like Iormungr._

Behind him, the ground rustled as the bone dragon moved, standing ready, vigilant, once more.

Eragon's eyes closed. _"When the time has come and your power is insufficient..."_

_The prophesy. Your power was insufficient to protect her... to protect her from all. It isn't, not any more._

Eragon's throat felt tight. "So I can do it now. I could fight Galbatorix... and win?"

_Perhaps. You are only as ready as the moment you step onto the field. Fate... despite what prophesies may lead us to believe, is truly our own to design. The betrayer is strong, this is true. But he is only as powerful as the heart that leads him._

"Is what I saw... the visions... memories... is it all true?"

_Absolutely. You have _seen _much... more than any rider has ever seen. Prophesy is a form of magic, Eragon. One of the facets in which dragons are inexplicably linked to. But something happened, when the riders were formed. Though the spell that was crafted, and the might by which it was ensured, elves and humans should have gained all our gifts. But they did not, instead, they received the gift of prophesy at a strength we dragons had never dreamed. It is an ethereal thing, coming and going. Many go their entire lives without feeling it, and some receive messages in their dreams. But you, Eragon, are one of the strongest this world shall ever know. When you became a rider, that gift was activated, and as your bond grew, so did it grow, and it shall likely remain as so until your purpose is spent._

"To protect Saphira? ...But, you said a moment ago, that fate is our own design..."

_And so it is. And when the moment comes that you must protect her, you will be the one that must do it. No prophesies, no second chances, merely the power of your will and the strength of your sword._

Eragon let out a sound... a hiss of insubstantial pain. "...I can feel her again... I tried to block out the pain... tried to hold together... but I can't. I can't shut her out... I... Even when Oromis told me that I must, I never could entirely. I'm... not sure if I even want to."

_It is something that must be and yet must not, if you are to be all you can. Dragons have always kept their secrets... So do humans. So do elves. If there comes a time that you can share all... without fear, without worry... then you will discover that two souls united are stronger than they ever could be apart. Brom... he once told you this, in not so many words. He knew it, though he could never achieve it. But it is part of why he broke so thoroughly when it was lost. Galbatorix, too, knew it, in a moment long chained in his memory. Oromis and Glaedr taught you as they must. But do not hide from it. Your moments apart are necessary, but now is not that time!_

And just like that, Eragon dropped the barriers in his mind. Instantly, he fell to his knees, his hands barely holding him off the floor. Tears rushed down his cheeks, and he felt a great overwhelming emotion.

Relief. He could sense her... leagues away, and she was healing. Recovering. Not too far now, he could feel, from waking.

He felt a great pressure under his stomach, and he opened his eyes to discover a tail of bone lifting him to his feet. The tears kept flowing... but Eragon, once again, stood tall.

"I... I must go..."

_One last thing._

"The vault of souls?"

_The vault of souls. ...Like Saphira did for you, Iormungr did something that a thousand dragons could not. He created... what some would call a wound. It is better known as a bridge._

"...A bridge... for what?"

_Better... to ask _to where_... He linked with magic, with the land like so few ever have, and created the strongest incident of 'wild magic' this world has ever known. He pierced the barrier between life and death... In this place, souls may find passage. Souls may return... and souls may leave forever. Do not put stake in the elves beliefs of death... the beyond exists, if not in a way any can understand. It was, admittedly, not entirely Iormungr's intention, but he created it, looking for a way to protect me as he could. He gave much, and a part of him lingers in this world, guarding the gate, guarding my body, forever more. As for I... I never left. The other side calls me... and I will go, in time, as all will, but I shall wait for now, as something keeps me here for the moment._

"_Saphira." _Eragon whispered.

_Yes. My Saphira. _There was a long moment of silence... as Vervada found the strength to say what came next. _...If I may make a request of you... Eragon... I have a message for which to pass to my daughter._

"And I promise to deliver it, Storm-cleaver."

A sudden rush of feelings, stronger than he had ever felt, entered his mind, blanketing him sorrow and filling him with happiness. It could only be described as one thing.

A mother's unconditional love.

_...I have another message, for you to place as you will._

A shimmering filled the air in front of him, and a stream of light came from the portal beyond. A moment later, it solidified into a long stream of silk and leather. A moment later, Eragon peeled it back... and the hilt of a sword was revealed.

"But... this..."

_It is yours to do with as you wish. And now... One final message... though this is for you._

Eragon's eyes widened. "What message ...could you have for me?"

_Just this... He reminds you to protect her, because without her-_

"-Life is hardly worth living..." Eragon took a deep choking breath. "...Tell him I'm sorry I didn't listen better, and that I'll never forget his words again for as long I live."

_...He says... that he's more proud of you than he can describe._

Fresh tears flowed in Eragon's eyes... but he was renewed with fresh purpose. He stood tall, and took one last look at the two of them, the bodies and souls that had brought him so much.

_When you're ready... return here... when the time comes._

"...Thank you both... for everything." And Eragon turned, beginning the long trek to his home, his life, his love.

Once more, a sense of calm overtook him. There was a spark of light, and he was wrapped in violet flames.

And then, he was gone.

* * *

-Chapter 25 -End-


	26. Shur'lekka

Hey people. I thank those who've sent reviews yet again. To those who've cared, who've continued to support me over the years, this chapter is for you.

* * *

-Chapter 26 -Begin-

* * *

Pain. That's the first thing she feels. Pain, then biting cold. She's vaguely aware of Eragon, not in the back of her mind, but the front, as it has always been. She tries to concentrate... but it's hard. So hard.

Something is wrong, she knows it too well. But she can't move. Can't act. Can't think. Something inside her burns, and the temperature drops once more. She shivers uncontrollably.

"_Brightscales!"_

She can hear someone. ...Who... she's not sure. But it is not her Eragon, and she can't bring herself to care what the little thing has to say.

...Eragon. Yes. She can still feel him. He's... entwined. _Arya_... the name running through his head. _Arya_... joyfully... lustfully.

Something inside her stings, deep in her chest. Deep... familiar... stronger than ever.

She wants to curl up. Forget this... forget it all. Forget all the pain. But everything is heavy. The air is thick. She tries to breathe... why can't she breathe...?

She sinks... sinks into darkness.

* * *

...A moment of awareness. Something flares within her. Someone is calling her. She cannot remember the name...

Freezing darkness... she fights it. She wants to remember... but doesn't know how.

Something pushes against her, prying at her mouth. She fights it... but the force is too great. She feels something slide down her aching throat.

And then... there is the moment of sweetest relief... Or, at least, this is how she remembers it, as her body then catches aflame. Everything burns, **BURNS!**

The fire reaches her muscles, and her limbs begin to spasm. Her tail lashes out, smashing against someone then continuing in a screeching arc against the walls. As her head lurches forward, her stomach tightens and she empties its contents to the floor.

Then, again, there is biting cold, and everything is dark once more.

Danger!

She knows it deep within. Inexplicable, but undeniable.

"_**Don't take another step..."**_

Then there is a flash of burning blue... and her mind relaxes. Just like she knew of her peril, she now knows that she is safe.

...There is a presence in her mind... or is it hers at all? It touches her. Encompasses her. Loves her. She aches suddenly, and she wants to meet it. This person that she knows and does not know. She feels hope... hope for the first time in so long.

But then the presence fades, and she cries inside. And when the darkness comes once more, she does not fight it.

* * *

_**I know you.**_

Something rings in her mind. She has felt this before. It is a voice, and not a voice. Soothing and loving and something else she does not know.

_**I feel you, deep within that shell. Your brothers have hatched, yet you stay...**_

Her mind pushes... struggling for what is yet so very instinctual...

_...Mother._

_**Yes... I am your mother. I was the one that carried you, that birthed you. You are the only female to come from me... the only one. And you... are like me. There was something missing from them, your brothers. Something... I know. So why do you awaken? Why do you not hatch?**_

She struggles to understand this question... these thoughts. There is a moment, then she has a thought of her own.

_...Not yet..._

_**Not yet? Why...? **_

_...Not yet..._

_**The **_**rock **_**is empty, save for me. There is more than enough food in these lands... your father almost overhunts now... what could you be waiting for?**_

_...Not yet..._

_**...Why... my Saphira... why...?**_

The little dragoness did not answer. Merely sunk into her thoughts, into the warmth, the comforting presence that was _Mother._

Vervada did not understand. It vexed her, pained her. This was the one... she knew. The one that would follow her like none others could. But why would she not hatch?

And then, the little dragoness let out an almost silent, but crystal clear thought.

_Him._

* * *

_**I don't know why she's so obsessed with you. **_

The little dragoness did not answer.

_**She senses... something. I don't know what... I can't really explain it either...**_

He tries though. It's a rush of meanings, emotions... not-understandings...

They pass by her. It is all too quick for her tiny thoughts to grasp on to. But he is a good teacher, and he senses this. The next wave comes much more slowly. However, she just jumps from one concept to the next, like a kitten chasing a butterfly, or a child grasping for pretty lights.

He sighs, but tries again all the same.

_**You are a strange one... little Saphira... I think I like it though. It's a little early to say but, you remind me of Vrael...**_

_**Heh... he's probably going to scowl at me for that... though... he might just smile.**_

_**...Yes, I think he will.**_

She feels his gaze upon her again, though she does not understand it either. She feels an iris shaped flash of white light, diffusing into the blue-that-surrounds-her yet is a part-of-her.

_**Are you the one? The one that will join me?**_

Like always, she does not answer. But he chuckles all the same.

_**Sleep well, little dragon-princess.**_

There is silence once more... then-

_...Not join you._

...This is the first time she feels sadness.

* * *

_**He says you're like me...**_

This is a new voice... and she shies away. But he continues rambling anyway, and she is soon drawn back to his bright spark of light.

_**I don't know how he got that. In his defence, he is your father but... you're not even formed yet. I can't imagine why... you've been with **_**...Vervada**_** for a year now. Many of your brothers hatched in half the time... but you're still not ready...**_

An exasperated sigh. _**You ARE an oddity. But perhaps that's a good thing. **_

_**...But I seem to be getting distracted. I have something to do, little one...**_

She feels a tingle of something, it itches pleasantly for several moments, then it is gone, leaving an odd sense of finality in its wake.

_**... And now you're one of us. **_**Shur'lekka.**_** A bonded dragon. **_

The silence remains.

_**Of course, now we have to wait for you to find a partner. It just so happens there is a new set of recruits coming by tomorrow... but... I don't think it's time just yet. Forgive me if I'm delaying you, for I'm sure you could grow as fast as you need, but I'd rather you didn't hatch quite yet. Your mother grieves... and I cannot wish any additional pain upon her.**_

* * *

_**Fifty years...**_

_**Fifty years, since you left my grasp...**_

_**It doesn't feel so long, yet it feels like forever.**_

The silence is stronger now. Within, Saphira, for she knows what she is now, curls tightly. The touch on her shell, what is part-of-her and not-part-of-her, is familiar, but it is not _Him. _So she shrouds herself. Waiting... through the touch of so many others who are not what she seeks, and _waiting._

_**I still look to the sky sometimes, half expecting to see you. Wind-blue-talon... is what I look to see. I know I will know you. ...But I also know you will not come. I can feel it better now. Your wait. Your patience. Or rather your hope. You hope for something, wait for it because you know it will come... You've sensed it, like me...**_

_**I wish I knew what it was... understood it better than the nagging at the back of my spines, stronger than a feeling in my chest. But you must wait, I understand that.**_

_**And when the time comes, whether it be a year or a ten thousand, I will welcome you home...**_

* * *

_**Hush little dragon don't you cry...**_

This one is very different. He is... in pieces. She does not understand.

He laughs at that. But swiftly comes another thought. Curiosity. _**Why did you remain? They spirited away the others... to little effect, I admit, but you were left behind. Half buried in a nest... you're ingrained with dust... a heavy layer of time.**_

_**...But still warm... but so quiet too...**_

_**Curious little dragoness...**_

* * *

Another mind. This one contacts her without noticing. Like it is a familiar thing with no familiar anchor. She studies him... curiously.

_**I am not yours... **_

The mind is sharp, but jagged. Torn. It closes off from her. And she does not feel it again for a long time, and by then does not remember it.

* * *

Her blue-tinged darkness quakes. She bounces softly within... but she ignores it all. She feels something else... _home..._

For the first time, she calls out for _mother._

There is a spark of green, and she feels herself move away. Away from _home. _She fights it, but the magic is strong, determined. She ends up in the middle, away from the one who had carried her.

...But then she feels someone else. Someone new. There is an aching within her... Is it _him?_

The person scoops her up... and she presses out immediately. It is! Almost instantly, she can feel her form solidifying. It is time to _hatch._

...Why won't it happen? She presses against everything... but she has been asleep for so long... it's hard to wake.

But she clamps her teeth, only just aware of their existence, and fights with all her will.

And she prayed that he did not leave too quickly.

* * *

The sound of ringing is the final push she needs.

It reverberates within her, forcing her muscles into action. She calls out, and scrapes against what-is-no-longer-her with her newly discovered claws.

It does nothing, and for a moment she feels despair.

Where was _mother, _in a time like this...?

But she is a dragon, and sorrow does not hold her for long. She calls yet another time, and rears up, smashing her entire weight against the shell. It rocked forward, undamaged, but she is not discouraged. She does it again, and again, over and over until something finally gives, and she and the shell fall. She is cushioned, but she shell begins to splinter. She smashes against it one last time, and something comes loose.

She sees the outside, something not just blue, and it astounds her for a moment. She wants more, and her head pokes out, followed swiftly by the rest of her as she pulls at the hole with her forelegs.

...She feels damp, a very new feeling, and she takes a moment to lick the tasty goo off herself. She is still hungry though, and she looks around for something to eat, not sure of what that could be, until a sound distracts her.

Her head whips around, and she sees... something. It looks familiar, like from a half-remembered dream. She can feel her mind opening up to possibilities. Though she does not know words, she understands concepts very well. It looks at her, and she at it, but her interest fades, and she returns to her search to ease the ravaging _HUNGER!_

It distracts her again, and she smells it, but it does not smell like _food. _But then it reaches and presses its hand against her, and everything changes.

It is _him!_

Joy pours through her heart, and a great sense of contentment comes over her. _He, _for that is what he is now, quickly lies on his soft-him-nest, and she wanders over to him.

She wants to understand him, but she does not know how. She reaches with her thoughts, finding him, and is pleased at how easy it is. She touches his mind, her curiosity is insatiable, but then there is suddenly a great distance between them. She scowls in annoyance, and then moves closer, brushing against his leg. She can access his mind accurately again, and she begins looking, seeking to understand, but at the same time so very happy to be with him.

He reached again, and his hand smooths over her head. Her back arches unconsciously, and she returns to her body with its annoying needs. She presses out with her mind again, telling of her hunger, and wishing he understands.

He does. He moves away, and she leaps in joy on his nest and she chirps eagerly. Then, from the corner of her eye, she sees something. It is great and big and far away and a little bit blue, like her. It, too, is familiar, though she does not know why. However, she is distracted again as he returns.

He offers something to her... she smells it curiously, and it smells good. She snaps it up, not chewing, just swallowing. She pressed against his hand, requesting more. He gives it, and she feels the hunger abating.

It is not long till her stomach is full, and she almost purrs in increased contentment. She padded over to him, nuzzling him and curling against him. He does not move, and she feels bliss. A great weight comes over her, her energy suddenly expended, and she soon falls asleep.

_Him._

It is him, finally. In her dreams, she is with him once more. She sings, and he pulls her close.

_Him._

* * *

Something swells within her, and Saphira opened her eyes.

Where was she? When?

It is a treehouse. But it smells. It smells like rotting. She closes her nostrils, cutting off the putrid stink.

"Brightscales!" Someone ran before her.

_Brightscales... _Yes, she'd been that. Saphira Brightscales, they'd called her.

What was this one's name?

It was so hard to remember.

And then she feels it again.

_Him._

Her mind connects with his, sweet, blissful, like the first time, and she can feel him accelerate, moving towards her.

He was Eragon. He was her partner. He was her friend. He, she would give her life for. He was the one that she had given her h-

He was here!

When she sees him, it is not like the first time. He is worn, he is lost. But when he sees her, she sees so much, and she feels more still. In a blink of an eye, he is hugging her, pulling her so tight she would not have imagined he had the strength, and crying.

She knows what has happened. She can feel how broken he is, how shattered and torn. And she cries too.

And then he _shifts, _his body lit with blue flames. He doesn't care, he only hugs her tighter. And she acquiesces; drawing him into her grasp of limbs and wings so she can nuzzles him more than she should.

She seems him properly now... as he has become when heat and anger and _love _take over. He stands like a man, but he is almost naked, sheets of cloth over his bottom half all that remains of his clothing. He is armoured from head to toe in emerald scales, layered thickly on his outer sides, and thin on his _softer _edges. A thick line of barbs run down his back and onto a long tail, which is now wrapped around her limbs as he hugs her. There are spines on his forearms and elbows, and one less finger on each hand. The lower ends of his legs have small spikes as well, coming down to an armoured foot with one less toe each, but built with claws and a talon just below the ankle. He has wings, large and multi-jointed but folded against his back. He has a spread of backwards-facing spines where his hair had been, and lowly angled horns stretching further back. His head was extended like a dragon's, pointed and with sharp teeth. His neck was a little longer, his ears larger, but not remotely human anymore, extending backwards to a sharp point. He had ridges on his eyebrow, extending into two smaller horns (like hers, she noted). His eyes were green and his iris thin and sharp, not humanoid anymore, and showing his distress.

He cried green-tinged tears, for minutes... hours... she couldn't say.

Eventually his form wavered, and his elven body finally collapsed into a fitful sleep, but she did not stop crying.

Hers, however, were tears of joy. _He_ had returned.

As long as she was with him, and he with her, nothing else mattered.

They were home.

* * *

-Chapter 26 -End-


	27. Seven footsteps

And I'm back here again, begging forgivness for not posting for six months. Feel free to flame me, I know I deserve it. This chapter has lain about half finished for quite a time, I admit, I got distracted. As for what I got distracted on, that's owing to another fic of mine, _Rewritten. _If you like my work, I suggest you check it out. I've been posting chapters there at a speed to make a professional writer jelous. Seriously, in I've managed in a month what took me years for this fic. Though that may be due to my development as a person. Writing, unlike before, has become more of a passion, instead of something interesting to pass the time.

That shameless piece of self-promotion aside, take it as you will, let me bequeath to you another chapter of Gedwey Awlei. I admit, I don't know how I'm going to do the next chapter. Part one of this thing... as I've always designed it, is almost over. How I'm going to get there has been lost to my mind in time, but perhaps I'm finding my way again.

I certainly hope so.

* * *

-Chapter 27 -Begin-

* * *

_I'm sorry... I'm so sorry._

_It's okay._

_No it's not... I've... the things I've done. I've killed... but more, I betrayed you. Betrayed my oaths..._

Her presence wraps around him. Physically and mentally. Comforting. He tries to push it off... he doesn't deserve it. His mind opens, and she _sees_.

He waits for a flinch, a turn of thoughts. For her to grasp on things that would horrify even a bloodthirsty dragon.

_It's okay._

But she doesn't turn. Doesn't hate. Just forgives... Loves unconditionally.

It's more soothing than he can bear. He has to know... has to understand why.

She wishes she could tell him.

_Sleep now, my little one._

* * *

...Light.

Soft... and warm.

Eragon opens his eyes. Everything is tinted with blue.

Blue.

Wing... Saphira's wing.

He, they, are in her dias. At some point, they ended up there. The blankets were damp... wet and salty. Sooner rather than later then. Had he cried all night?

For a moment, Eragon feels a stab of shame. He can imagine what Garrow would have said. Roran would have laughed... or maybe not.

And suddenly, he knows his mind is his own again. Together... whole.

_Whole..._

He can feel Saphira. She wakes slowly, but to Eragon it is like the first dawn to a blind man. It encompasses his awareness, and he only digs deeper. And when she is finally aware, she does not open her eyes. One forearm presses against Eragon's back, pulling him closer, but there is no more space to be had. His lungs empty of air, but he still chuckles lightly.

Saphira snorts, something about it hilarious to her. The amusement reflects in his mind, and then they are suddenly laughing until their breath is spent. And then her wing is raised for a split second and Eragon darts under and around, throwing his arms around her snout and pulling tight. She laughs harder, and tries her very hardest not to snort again.

Then, Eragon presses his lips to her face, just between her eyes, and laughter is the last thing on her mind.

Finally, her beautiful sapphire eyes open, and she looks into his.

And then she tries not to reflect the pain she can see, either. At some point, Eragon has lost the ability to hide his hurts. His eyes tell her far too much, for a dragon.

He is whole, but he is broken in other ways.

But then her tongue darts out, flicking his cheek, and the pain lessens slightly.

_Yes, _she realises. There is no answer here... not in Ellesmera. Not with the elves. Certainly not anywhere near Arya. And most of all, away, far far away from this war that he was dragged into.

She never expected to have to follow up on her promise to drag Eragon away from it all.

But as she moves around the room collecting things with the grace of something with opposable digits, and finds Eragon without a saddle on her back, in that little groove between her shoulders that fit _just _right, arms wrapped around her neck, she doesn't regret a thing.

* * *

"Gone! What do you mean they're gone!"

Nasuada did not take her gaze off the enchanted mirror as Islanzadi's lips pinched slightly, the only sign that gave off her annoyance. "Exactly as I said. Saphira's and Eragon's _home," _she noted, pushing the point for a moment, "has apparently been one short for two weeks. We knew _something_ had happened, but we were unable to ascertain _what. _The main room had been layered in enough magic to lift a castle, and we dared not test it. Only Vanir, a... tutor... of Eragon's, was able to give us information, but against my insistence, he refused to."

Nasuada paced around the tent, her footprints burning a ring into the dirt. "And you chose not to inform me earlier... why?"

"I did not wish to cause panic over an uncertain possibility. However, it is _fact _now. Eragon returned last night. How he got into Ellesmera without any of our _...sentries _being alerted is a question I cannot answer. Saphira flew out the next morning. They are beyond our ability to scry now. Where they are is something only they know. Regardless, we will find them soon enough."

Nasuada looked away from the mirror, hiding her furious expression. She was sorely tempted to call out Islanzadi on her mistake, but she would only lose hard gained efforts by doing so. Instead, she took a deep breath, flattening her features before looking back.

"We can't afford to have him gone much longer... Murtagh has been raiding our lines for months. Only the combined efforts of all the magicians, mine and yours, can repel him. But it takes time for them to arrive, especially since they have to be well protected, and they can't keep it up forever. We needed Eragon to stay here from the beginning, not to have him gallivanting off to Helgrind. Let alone..." Nasuada sighed. "It may not seem much to you... but a few months are a long time in the world of men."

Islanzadi raised an eyebrow. "Better to have an arrow with a tip than a shaft alone."

"And now we have neither! And I still haven't been able to give any information to Roran on his cousin! He's been requesting it for nearly as long, ever since Saphira sent him away from Helgrind on foot with a blackened sword and a bag of gold!"

"Ah, your ongoing war with the peasant boy."

"Hardly a boy, far too much muscle on him now. Far too many kills with that hammer as well. Neither would be an issue, if he didn't have the ability to make entire villages switch sides AND join the war effort. I swear, his tongue isn't silver, it's made of platinum."

"How is the assault on Feinster progressing?"

Nasuada sighed, but was eager to get back to business. She would likely break something, probably many somethings later, but worries over Eragon would have to wait. He had sworn fealty, something that she knew he had not done lightly at the time, she just had to hope that despite his sudden disappearance, it still meant something to him. Absently, her hand clenched. Everything seemed to made of hopes lately.

"Slowly, but surely. The months we had to gain supplies have allowed for a prolonged siege, even with Murtagh's constant attacks. I expect it to fall within the next week...

* * *

Roran was a man of simple wants.

Now, if the world would stop trying so hard to hard to deny him those things, he wouldn't be tearing up the world to get them.

The analogy made him grin.

"What are you thinking?" Katrina's voice held a touch of amusement, but Roran's only reply was to lean in and kiss her. She resisted his attempt to distract her for but a moment before pulling closer herself, and Roran had to be careful not to lose himself in their growing body heat.

"Good things." He said, after finally drawing air back into his lungs.

She faux-scowled at him, but he only grinned and bent down to press his head against her stomach, listening, feeling...

"Oh!" Katrina said breathily, and just then Roran felt a slight nudge against his cheeks.

"She's strong."

Katrina rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face was evident. "A good sign that _he _is strong."

"I still think she's a girl. A girl with beautiful red hair, just like her mother."

Currently incapable of bending over, she instead ran her hands through his hair. "A marvellous delusion you have there."

"I'd prefer to call it a vision." He retorted as his fingers ran across her stomach, and he was soon rewarded with another strong kick.

Yes, Roran was a man of simple wants. He wanted Katrina. He wanted their child.

There was a rustling from near the door of their tent. A moment later, Roran heard his name called.

...He sighed, his face hardening. Kissing Katrina once more on the lips, he then strode over to retrieve his hammer and latched it to his belt.

The only other thing he wanted was to have them both safe.

And heaven help who got in his way.

* * *

Ellesmera was silent.

It was the oddest thing to Vanir. He was young, merely forty years old. Very very young amongst elves, he reasoned. It made him laugh inside, to know he had sworn fealty to a boy not even half his age. Yet he did not regret it. He had sworn it knowing full well what he was doing, and despite the troubles it had given him, and there were many, he still did not think otherwise.

Even if he was, technically, under arrest at the moment. Confined to his quarters. It could have been much worse. Given Islanzadi's anger, he could have been executed. A sad affair indeed, and something that had not occurred amongst the elves for over one thousand years. However, he did what many an elf had done before when they enraged their monarch (it did happen, though not often, even by elven standards), and sworn in the ancient language that, simply, he was doing what he thought best for the elven race.

And he was. He was young, yes, but he was wise beyond his years. Even Islanzadi realised this, even if she would never admit it. Still, it was enough to weaken his sentence. That was enough to frustrate him however. The elves had made their move, and begun the march to war. Few were left behind. Most were those who had sworn off the sword. And then him, their youngest, and now disgraced, prodigy.

Oh yes, he had been the one sent to train with Eragon for a reason. The second one was that he was still given to the emotions of the younger races. He would empathise with the rider, bind him closer. That hadn't gone too well, he could admit. But that hadn't been what Vanir tried to do, he had instead attempted to bring out the best in Eragon. If he had to antagonise him to do that, so be it. It was ironic, that after it all, it would be the princess that distanced him. And then Eragon turned to him. Only him.

Vanir spun Naegling in his hands. _Keep it, _Eragon had said. Look after it. Use it well. There had been trust in his eyes then, and Vanir could not have refused even if he'd wanted to.

The bronze blade glinted in the sunlight, and Vanir flipped it one last time before sheathing it. He would use it. He could not be kept here forever. Would not. The moment Eragon showed himself in battle again, he would be there. His loyalty was not Islanzadi's anymore. It had not been for some time now.

With a sudden burst of motion, Vanir drew Naegling and stabbed at an imaginary opponent.

Yes, the time would come.

* * *

Hunting was calming. Or at least she thought so. It seemed to help him.

She circled overhead, a shape of blue barely visible against the sky. Down far below, Eragon drew an arrow and pulled it taut on his bow.

She watched as he stalked a deer through the dense foliage. His pace was swift, much faster than she had ever seen in his memories, so long ago. He was more experienced now, in more ways than one. It was mere minutes until he caught up to the grazing animal, despite the silence of his steps. Then, so swiftly she almost missed it, he raised his arms and let the arrow fly.

It fell instantly, the point driven into its brain, the shaft protruding from an angle from the rear of its neck.

He brushed against her mind, and she trimmed her wings, coming in for a landing.

She didn't know why he had insisted on doing the hunting today. But she saw no reason to complain. By the time she skimmed the dirt, he had already retrieved the arrow and wiped off the gore in a nearby patch of long grass. For a moment, he examined the weapon, a strange look on his face, but then he tucked it back into his quiver, satisfied with what he had seen.

Brushing against his thoughts, she thanked him as she dug into the steaming meat. He turned, an almost-smile on his lips. He walked over, brushing his fingers over her cheeks as he passed by her, and went searching for his kind of food.

Her face tingled for a long moment, and she stopped eating for a long moment, her attention too much on him.

...She didn't quite understand him anymore. Parts of him had changed... grown. He kept on doing things that surprised her.

And she was starting to think it was a good thing.

* * *

Islanzadi knew she wasn't the perfect mother.

She could admit that to herself, even if she would never admit it to anyone else. She was too wound up in pride. She held too many regrets. Her thoughts held too much anger. Yes, she knew all that. But she did her best to put her personal grievances aside when she performed her duties. She knew however, that even then she was not perfect. But still, she tried. She loved her people. She led them as best she could. Sometimes, often even, that meant making hard choices.

More than anything, she loved her daughter. But in knowing that, she also had to try all the harder to not let it cloud her judgement.

But now, she didn't know what to do. Arya was not the same as she had known. She was... lessened. She never looked up anymore. Never looked at her with wary eyes, a hint of disagreement in her features. Arya had been... defeated. Though how she could not say. As queen, she had no answers for this. She knew that if she had passed out orders to her daughter, they would be carried out, flawlessly as always, but nothing she could order would change what Arya had become.

She was not the perfect mother, but perhaps, maybe, she could be mother enough to fix this.

* * *

It would come to a surprise to many that Arya had regrets.

She had always been so aloof, so determined, so focused. She had cultivated that temperament. Unmovable, indestructible, in the eyes of the Varden and elves alike.

If only it were actually so.

Unfortunately, she had an excellent memory, and an overzealous conscience. She remembered dozens of tiny mistakes that all others had forgotten, but still weighed on her.

And then there were the big ones.

Between the loss of Faolin, and driving away Eragon, she would be hard pressed to say which was the heaviest on her mind.

For years and years she had carried Saphira's egg, back and forth from the Varden and the elves. It had been... lonely. But then he had joined her. Faolin was everything she hadn't wanted. Everything that would distract her. She had loved him... against all resistance, she had loved him. Wanted his child, and then some. When he had been taken away, only her determination to not see her work go to waste let her carry on. Then there had been Eragon. He was many of those things, yet again. Oh how he had distracted her. She cared for him... maybe loved him. ...But not as much as she had loved Faolin. And it was that difference that had caused the split. She had tried to relive her feelings, in a moment of weakness, her resistance worn away with time.

She should have known that Eragon was not fooled for long.

Arya heard her name, and she didn't even raise her head.

She didn't want to... not anymore.

* * *

Has it been a days, or weeks? Saphira could admit, she's lost track of the time. Ever since she was born, there had always been something to do. At first it was learn, then it was chasing the Ra'zac, then it was, ironically, learning so she could become strong enough to fight said Ra'zac, as well as the king.

Now... there was nothing. She finally pinned down the difference in his acts. There was a lack of urgency in them. The burden he carried, the worries, hopes and fears of the whole of Alagaesia had lifted. There was just him, and just her.

She heard a sound, and raised her head in time to see Eragon slowly make his way into the cave they had claimed, the moon and stars at his back. He met her eyes for a moment, then another, and then soundlessly moved to lay at her side, where she draped a wing over his still form.

Just him, just her. Just _them._

Saphira had always wondered what it would be like. Always, always there had been another. Brom, Murtagh, Orik, humans or elves in-between. Even the horses had grated on her nerves, because they drew his attention away from her.

Now she had it all. In every waking breath, her thoughts were on her. Sometimes lesser, sometimes greater, but never gone.

...And... she didn't know what to do with it. Her mind concocted plans, schemes, but every time she was thwarted when he gave her that _silent-lost-look _that rendered her mute.

Every day he recovered a little more. Given enough time he would remember his duties. He would take up his sword once more, and they would fight together, their bond stronger for it all.

She did not want it. She knew it had to end at some point. But that was not today.

Saphira raised her wing slightly, just enough for her to reach in and nuzzle Eragon softly.

A dragon's smile twisted her lips, and she left one eye on him, and another on the stars as she began to rest.

_No, not today._

* * *

-Chapter 27 -End-


End file.
